On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin
by SpoonyLupin
Summary: Since learning of his guardian's double life, Dick has promised that he will never put his life in danger by trying to take the law into his own hands. However, when the Joker rears his ugly head and Batman mysteriously vanishes, Dick feels as if he has no choice but to follow in his guardian's footsteps as a masked vigilante. [Prequel to the 1966 TV series.]
1. Chapter 1: The Joker's Playing Card

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and William Dozier, and various publishers including, but not limited to, DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment, Time Warner, ABC, 20** **th** **Century Fox, and Greenway Productions. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

 _Author's note: This picks up about a week after the end of the first story and the Joker remains on the loose._

 _This story is dedicated in loving memory  
_ _to the man who always was and always will be  
_ _my one and only Batman  
_ _Adam West  
_ _September 19, 1928 ~ June 9, 2017  
_ _Thank you for the Bat-memories_

* * *

 **On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin  
** Chapter 1 – The Joker's Playing Card

 _As the afternoon dawns warm and sunny in the fair city of Gotham, something strange is afoot at a quaint used bookstore called Yesterday's Imaginings…_

When the tiny silver bell above the door jingled quietly, no one in the shop looked up. They were all too engrossed in their browsing and reading to notice the sound that signified another customer was joining them. That, however, changed when a maniacal laugh broke the peaceful quiet.

"It's the Joker!" a woman in a large hat yelled, dropping the book she was looking at with a loud _thump_. She brought her hands up to her cheeks in fear.

Several of the other customers screamed in horror at the loudly-dressed, white-faced villain who had just crossed the threshold into the store.

"Oh," the Joker replied, sounding slightly disappointed, "but I haven't even done anything wrong yet." He laughed again before adding, "Surely just walking into a store isn't a criminal offense!"

"What do you want, Joker?" the man behind the counter asked defensively, appearing to be ready to spring into action and protect his patrons if need be.

"I may simply be here to purchase some used books like the rest of you fine people," the Joker said, his painted-on smile curving even more around his pale face.

"I can't imagine a criminal like yourself doing anything as honest as _buying_ books," another customer interjected. "Wouldn't you steal them instead?"

"Oh," the Joker said sadly, "do give me some credit. Don't worry, I'm not here to steal any of your precious books. Certainly not any of these old and dusty things you have lying around." The Joker made his way over to a shelf of rather dingy-looking books and ran one of his gloved fingers over them. When he pulled his finger up to his face, he stared at it in a disgusted manner. He rubbed his thumb against his dusty finger and muttered, "Ew. Quite the contrary, in fact. I have much bigger fish to fry at the moment. Yes."

"Then I suggest you get to it and get out," the shopkeeper said, thrusting his chin in the direction of the door. He crossed his arms over his chest and added, "We don't need any of your kind of riffraff disrupting my customers."

"I just want you to remember that I was here," the Joker said, followed by a slightly deranged laugh. He took several jaunty steps across the shop, approaching the counter.

The shopkeeper took a small step backwards, tensing himself and preparing to fight off the arch villain in front of him if necessary.

"Come now," the Joker replied. "I mean you no harm and I'm a man of my word."

"Tell that to Warden Crichton," another one of the customers sneered, "the man who let you out of prison, thinking you'd gone straight."

"Now, for all you know," the Joker said, "I have gone straight. Let's not jump to conclusions. How are criminals in this city ever supposed to right their wrongs if no one wants to give them a fair chance?"

"Yes, let's not jump to conclusions," the store owner mumbled sarcastically. Turning his attention back to the Joker, he added, "You want me to remember that you were here? Done. Now you can leave."

"Just one more thing," the Joker said, holding up an index finger to emphasize his words. "I want you to be sure to tell Batman that I was here as well when he comes around to ask about me, because you know as well as I do that he will be here. A little too late, mind, but he will come. But just as a reminder-" The Joker suddenly stopped, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.

This caused the shop owner to jump in fear, but the Joker had simply withdrawn an ordinary playing card from his pocket. He laid it face-up on the counter before the shopkeeper, pushing it towards the other man with a single finger. When the store clerk glanced down at it, he saw a slightly maniacal and gaudily-colored drawing of a jester staring up at him. The word "JOKER" was printed in black ink across the top of the card, just like one would find in an ordinary deck of playing cards.

"You'll be sure to remember now, won't you?" the Joker asked, breaking into a laugh once more. "That's all I want, my dear man." Turning around to face the rest of the shop, he added, "You may continue with your shopping now, ladies and gentlemen. My business here is done."

Cackling again, the Joker pranced out of the shop, oblivious to the looks of confusion and disbelief on the faces of the citizens behind him.

* * *

 _Meanwhile, deep below stately Wayne Manor, home of millionaire Bruce Wayne and his youthful ward, Dick Grayson…_

Dick, clad in his favorite grey sweat suit, adjusted the bright red boxing gloves on his hands. He steadied himself on his feet before he began pummeling his fists against the tan-colored focus mitts that Batman was holding up.

"Turn your whole body into the punch," Batman instructed, continuing to brace himself against Dick's punches. "That will make them more powerful. You're light on your feet. That'll help you. Try and use that to your advantage."

Dick adjusted himself, trying to keep all of Bruce's instructions in mind. He began hopping around more with each punch he threw.

"You're too tense," Batman pointed out. "Relax, calm down, and _breathe_. You're expelling too much energy by being so anxious."

Dick sucked in a breath and stepped back from Bruce. Lowering his hands to his sides, he hung his head. "I'm sorry. I should know these things. I _do_ know these things. This is basic stuff. I just feel so out of practice." Dick stopped, swiveling his head around to try and alleviate some of the tension he was feeling. "When everything happened with the Riddler and his henchmen, I was running on adrenaline. I didn't have time to think about what I was doing or what position my body was in. I just acted and it came so naturally. Now I'm thinking too much about what I need to do and..." Dick took a moment to think about his next words and he opened his mouth to speak, but then changed his mind. He closed his mouth tightly.

Batman turned to pulling off his focus mitts, watching Dick closely. When he set the focus mitts down on the desk next to him, he stepped behind Dick. Placing his gloved hands on top of Dick's shoulders, he began massaging them.

"What?" Batman finally asked after nearly a minute. "You were going to say something else. What was it?"

Dick glanced back over his shoulder at Batman, their eyes meeting for a very long time. A moment later, Dick started pulling his boxing gloves off before setting them next to the focus mitts on the desk.

"I'm better than this," Dick said miserably, staring down at the hard, concrete floor of the Batcave. "Even now, with feeling so out of practice, I know I am."

Batman hummed in agreement. "I was there, remember? When you were fighting the Riddler, I saw how well and how hard you must have been trained. Even if you were out of practice, it was shining through. Maybe not an expert, but you are talented. That much was clear."

"Therein lays the problem," Dick said, before slowly inhaling and exhaling a large breath.

Batman didn't push him to go on, but instead continued to massage Dick's shoulders until the young boy was ready to speak.

"It just…" Dick began quietly, "it reminds me too much of my father. He was the one who got me interested in martial arts to begin with. All of this just reminds me so much of him, of the sparring matches we used to have…" Dick trailed off, sucking in a sharp breath that was punctuated by a sob. "I don't know. I don't know why it's getting to me so much."

A moment of silence fell between them, during which Batman dropped his hands from Dick's shoulders. It was Batman's turn to let out a heavy sigh before coming around to Dick's side. He gripped one of Dick's shoulders again and began guiding him over to the chairs that were sitting on the far side of the desk.

"Let's sit for a minute," Batman said, directing Dick to one of the chairs. After his young ward had taken his seat, Batman took the other one, scooting it across the floor until he was mere feet away from Dick.

Dick didn't say anything, but the slight redness and moisture in his eyes were very apparent. He wiped at his eyes in frustration.

"I know," Batman said after a long pause. "You never quite know what will bring up those memories. You'll go along all day, thinking you're fine, and then out of nowhere, it'll just hit you."

"It's been well over a year," Dick said, still wiping at his eyes. "Shouldn't that be enough time?" He sounded frustrated.

In a way, Bruce felt guilty for this. At first, he hadn't quite been so keen on training Dick to fight. More and more, however, he had come to see that perhaps it was a good thing for him. He liked seeing Dick so excited about something, especially something that the two of them could do together. Bruce had also come to realize that perhaps Dick would feel safer if he knew how to better defend himself. Hopefully, nothing like Dick's run-in with the Riddler would ever happen again, but if it did, at least Dick might be better equipped to deal with it. That, however, brought up a new swell of issues that Batman supposed he should have seen coming.

"Dick," Batman said. He reached out for his young ward's shoulders, gripping them tightly. He leaned in close before he said, "If I've learned anything in my own loss, it's that there is no time limit on healing. At all. Do you hear me? No matter how much time has passed, it can still hurt terribly. Nothing about this makes you weak, okay?"

"So it never gets better?" Dick asked, sounding a bit miserable and maybe even a little bit panicked.

"That's not what I said," Batman corrected. He leaned in even closer to Dick until their faces were only mere inches apart. "It does get better. Every single day. I promise you it does. But sadly…there will still always be a large piece of me missing. The part of me that misses my parents. And it hurts. I know it does. Even when I think I'm doing okay, something may happen to remind me of them and drive home the fact that they're not with me anymore. But then it passes, and…you move on. But it's a daily struggle for me. It is. One that gets easier over time, but one that never quite goes away."

A few tears had escaped the bottoms of Dick's eyelids to slide down his cheeks. Bruce used his thumbs to wipe them away.

"It's okay to still be sad," Batman said firmly. "It's okay now and it'll still be okay when you're my age. Or when you're Alfred's age. Or Aunt Harriet's age."

This brought the tiniest smile to Dick's lips and he let out a small breath of laughter.

"I want you to promise me," Batman told him, "that you'll never think you're weak for missing them or wanting to cry about it. Nothing about that makes you weak at all. Just human. Like I said, I still miss my parents every single day. Would you think that makes me weak?"

Dick shook his head harshly. "You're not weak. You're the strongest person I know."

"And you're not weak either," Batman replied. "Every single day since I've met you, I marvel at how strong you are. How much of a fighter you are. I've never thought otherwise and I never will. Even after everything happened with your parents, and then the Riddler, you didn't let any of that stop you. You kept right on going, and you have no idea how much of myself I see in you because of that. You're strong just like I am. Being sad and crying doesn't make it otherwise. Okay?"

Dick swallowed audibly and nodded before reaching up to wipe away the tears stains on his cheeks.

"And it does get easier," Batman went on. "It won't always hurt quite this much. It won't always be this painful to do things that remind you of them. Please don't ever think that. Just look at how far you've come since it happened. I seem to remember you telling me that you struggled to even get out of bed some days."

"I did," Dick admitted, nodding, "but it hasn't been that way for a long time. At least, not since I came here and we started getting closer. Then I became so invested in spending more time with you, spending the day in bed was the furthest thought from my mind. And…I don't know," Dick added before trailing off. He frowned in thought and said, "Even when you're busy and I'm here by myself, you're so much of an inspiration to me. I just think about how much you do for everyone else and I never even think about wanting to spend the day in bed anymore. There's so much we can do. So much we do to better ourselves and the world. Life's entirely too short to waste it."

"Something you never would have said just after it happened," Batman said, "is it?"

"No," Dick replied, and his voice was softer now, more content. He took a slow deep breath before continuing on. "You're right. It does get easier. It is getting easier. And I have you to thank for that." He glanced up at Batman, his eyes wide and his smile growing larger.

Batman opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, he was interrupted by the loud beeping of the Batphone. Bruce's mouth snapped shut and his eyes immediately closed in regret under his mask, signaling his guilt that something was once again getting in the way of his relationship with Dick.

"Answer it," Dick told him. More and more, he was coming to understand just how important Bruce's role as Batman was, not just to him but to all the citizens of Gotham City. Dick always thought about how many countless people Batman must have saved over the years, Dick included. Dick couldn't imagine how horrible he would feel if something happened that Batman could have prevented, and Dick would never stand in the way of that.

When Batman still didn't move from his spot, Dick added, "Someone needs you."

Batman squeezed one of Dick's shoulders tightly in response. Without another word, Batman quickly got up from his seat, his deep blue cape swirling out behind him, and made his way over to the phone.

"Yes, Commissioner?"

"It seems as if the Joker has struck again," came Commissioner Gordon's voice from the other end of the line.

"I knew he was going to," Batman replied. "What's he done now?"

"The exact same thing as before," the Commissioner explained in confusion. "He went into that used bookstore at the corner of Fourth and Elm. He simply told them to remember he was there, left a joker playing card just as he did before, and he left. The patrons and storeowner are just as puzzled over this as we are. It seems so innocuous."

"You and I both know there's nothing innocuous about the Joker!" Batman exclaimed. "He wouldn't do something like this just for the fun of confusing us. I know he's planning something much larger and far more sinister. But what?"

"I wish I knew, Batman."

Batman expelled a heavy breath. "As do I. I'll be there momentarily."

When Batman replaced the phone receiver in its cradle, he slowly turned around to face Dick.

"The Joker again?" Dick asked curiously.

"Yes," Batman replied, "with the exact same M.O. as before."

"Batman?" Dick asked. "Can you please not use that expression?" He made a face and shuddered visibly.

"Right," Batman said sheepishly, realizing what Dick was getting at. Not very long ago, just after Dick had figured out his secret identity, M.O. had been the answer to the Riddler's very first riddle that had led them both on a long and twisting journey.

"Sorry," Batman apologized.

"But you mean he just left a playing card at another store again?"

"Precisely." Batman bit at his bottom lip before he added, "I'm sorry to have to end our training session so suddenly-"

"It wasn't even much of a training session," Dick cut him off gently. "It kind of evolved into more of a bonding session. Not that I'm complaining. I like bonding sessions." He found himself smiling up at Bruce again.

"Me too."

"But go," Dick urged him. "I know you're anxious to get to the bottom of this, and I don't blame you. Knowing the Joker is clearly planning something ominous gives me the willies."

Batman slowly approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder again. "I know. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'm going to get started on my term-paper for English class while you're gone," Dick told him. "I finally figured out what I'm going to write about."

" _Animal Farm_?" Batman asked with a knowing smile. Ever since his young ward had read George Orwell's book for his English class a few months ago, he'd been going on and on about how it had been his favorite book that they had read the entire year.

"Of course," Dick said. "We're supposed to write about who our favorite character was that we read about this year. I finally narrowed it down to Boxer as my favorite character…because he reminds me of you."

"It's nice to know that a rather dim-witted horse reminds you of me. Thanks," Batman said sarcastically.

Dick snickered. "You know that's not the reason. It's because he's strong, and hard-working, and kind, and he wants to better his mind. And the part that I always remember the most clearly was how he always gave his food to the other animals when he was starving himself. _That's_ what reminds me of you. Because I know you would do the same."

"Without a second thought."

"Because careful, okay?"

"I always am."

Batman gave Dick's shoulder one last squeeze before he took off for the Batmobile. A moment later, the car's tires were squealing as the vehicle roared out of the Batcave. Dick had gotten up from his seat to watch him go, and the oddest feeling erupted inside his stomach. _How would it feel to ride in that seat next to Batman?_ he wondered.

"Master Dick?" came Alfred's voice from behind him, shaking Dick from his thoughts. "Would you like me to bring some cookies and milk into the living room while you work on your paper?"

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick replied, "but I think I'll work on it down here while I wait for Bruce to come back." Dick frowned momentarily before asking, "Is it weird that I take so much comfort in being in a cave of all places?"

"No, sir," Alfred replied, a knowing smile on his face, "because I do too. Why do you think I'm down here so often? And at least this way, I'll know as soon as possible if something happens and Master Bruce needs me to act."

"I know," Dick said. "I know I wouldn't be able to do much if a situation like that did arise, but I think I would like to know just the same."

Dick had no idea exactly how much he would come to dwell on those words in a very short amount of time.

* * *

Almost three pages of his term-paper later, Dick jumped nearly a foot in the air when the Batmobile roared back into the Batcave. He had been so engrossed in his paper, the rest of the world might have ceased to exist for Dick. Immediately setting down his pen, Dick stood up from his chair and turned to watch Batman getting out of his vehicle.

"Well?" Dick wasted no time in asking his guardian.

"I'm afraid I'm still no closer to figuring out what the Joker is up to," Batman said around a sigh, approaching Dick. "Exactly the same… _actions_ as before. Exactly the same playing card." Batman reached into his utility belt, withdrawing the Joker's card that had been left at the bookstore. He held it up for Dick to examine.

"I know the last card didn't hold any other clues," Dick said, "but this one could be worth checking on the Chemo-Electric Secret Writing Detector."

"Right," Batman replied, quickly making his way over to the machine in question. He placed the joker card on top of the flashing screen and then held the small pair of binoculars up to his eyes. He took a moment to examine the card while Dick approached silently.

A few moments later, Batman set down the goggles and shook his head miserably. "A part of me rather doubted there would be," Batman said, turning to his young ward. "There aren't any markings or writing on it that appear out of the ordinary. Just an ordinary playing card from an everyday deck."

"The Joker didn't leave anything else behind?" Dick asked as Batman began pacing the floor of the Batcave.

"I'm afraid not," Batman replied, one of his hands going up to his chin in thought. "I went over that bookstore with a fine-toothed comb and I couldn't find anything that might have been from the Joker. It's exactly what happened when he went to that jewelry store last week."

"Could it be something with the locations then?"

Batman stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in deep thought. A moment later, he crossed the room to the blackboard and wasted no time in picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the names of the stores the Joker had hit so far.

 _Lucky Jade Jewelry  
_ _Yesterday's Imaginings Used Bookstore_

"What do these things have in common?" Batman asked, setting down the piece of chalk on its ledge and turning back to Dick.

"They're both businesses," Dick offered sheepishly. "They both offer goods for sale which could be priceless. But the Joker didn't _steal_ anything. That's what gets me. And I don't see what else books and jewelry have in common." After a heavy sigh, he admitted, "Honestly, Batman, this one's got me stumped."

"Me too," Batman agreed. "I keep coming back to my very first idea. Remember what I said last week? That the Joker is very clearly establishing an alibi by being somewhere and telling the people to remember he was there. But nothing else happened in the city during those times. I had Commissioner Gordon and Chief O'Hara go back through the police records for the day the Joker went to the jewelry store. Nothing at all happened to catch my eye. Simply petty crimes and the like. Nothing that might attract the Joker or his cohorts. The Commissioner's going to get back to me on any other crimes that happened this afternoon, but I have a feeling that, too, will prove to be just as fruitless. But I know the Joker's up to something much larger than this!" Batman swung a hand in the air in frustration before resuming his pacing. "He's too tricky of a fiend not to be, despite all of his insistence to the contrary. The citizens at the bookstore said the Joker kept going on about going straight and how he wanted to be given a fair chance. But we both know that's not the case." Batman trailed off, appearing deep in thought.

Dick stared at the words on the chalkboard, as if hoping and praying for them to make any sort of sense to him. To suddenly reveal some sort of pattern, or secret, or riddle they might be hiding. But then something hit him.

"Batman?"

"Hm?" Batman hummed absentmindedly, not turning around.

"I was just thinking," Dick said, "what if it is about the playing cards after all?"

Finally turning to face his young ward again, Batman said, "What do you mean?"

Coming to his guardian's side, Dick said, "What if it was simpler than that? Maybe it has less to do with these stores-" Dick gestured towards the blackboard, "-and more to do with where the playing cards came from." He raised his eyebrows.

Batman narrowed his eyes in thought. "You think it could be that simple?"

"My dad always said, 'the simplest solution is usually correct.'"

The very corner of Batman's lips curled up into a smile. "Yes, a principle of philosophy accredited to William of Ockham. Your dad taught you about philosophy then, did he?"

"No," Dick said around a small laugh. "Philosophy was probably one of his least favorite subjects. He was just big on old axioms. 'A penny saved is a penny earned' and 'haste makes waste.'" Things like that."

"A lot of wisdom can be found in those old sayings."

"But do you think it could be true this time?" Dick asked. "I mean, this _is_ the Joker we're talking about. Is anything ever what it seems with him?"

"Well," Batman asked, "it's worth a try, isn't it? We don't have any other leads right now anyway. What harm could it do to check out? And I know just where to start!" Batman said, snapping his fingers, which made a dull rustling sound through the fabric of his gloves. "The Joker's Wild Card Company has been closed and defunct for years. It's probably not even safe to set foot in, but of course, that's never stopped the criminal element before. You're right – it seems like such an obvious solution now that I say it out loud."

"Just be careful, Batman," Dick pleaded, his expression suddenly turning into one of distress. "I hate the thought of you going to into a place like that, especially one that the Joker might be inhabiting. Who knows what he might have done to it."

"I told you, I always am careful," Batman said around an encouraging smile. "You know I am. I don't take any unnecessary risks. I'll keep my eye out in case the building looks too unsafe to enter and I'll come up with an alternative plan."

Dick took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. And you'll call if you're going to be late?"

"Absolutely," Batman reassured him. "Don't worry. I won't let you wait up all night worrying about me again."

"I know you won't," Dick said, watching as Batman made his way to the Batmobile once again.

Little did Dick know that that was exactly what he would be doing – waiting up all night, worrying about what had become of his guardian.

 _Good grief, Batfans!  
_ _What could the Joker possibly be up to this time?  
_ _Is Batman walking into another one of his arch enemy's nefarious traps?  
_ _What will Dick do when he doesn't hear from Batman?_

 _For the answers to these and other terrifying questions,  
_ _Tune in next time…  
_ _Same fan site…  
_ _Same fan channel._

 _For Batman's sake, keep your cards close to your chest until then!_


	2. Chapter 2: Scarred

_Author's note: I am back! I apologize profusely for not updating my stories in forever. As some of you may know, my father had several rather serious health problems around this time last year, and he ultimately passed away this past April. My dad was like my best friend and this has understandably wreaked havoc with my inspiration. It's been really hard to get back into the proper headspace for writing, especially for such a story that features a close father-son relationship. I hope I still have an audience out there and that you're still looking forward to my updates. I am attempting to do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this November, so updates should be coming regularly over the next few weeks if it all goes according to plan. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding, and I hope you enjoy the continuation of my Batman saga!_

 **On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin  
** Chapter 2 – Scarred

 _When we last left our Dynamic Duo, Batman had just sped off in the Batmobile to investigate a possible lead in his latest battle against the Joker. Let's see where his clues have taken him this time!_

The Batmobile screeched to a halt outside the Joker's Wild Card Company, an old and defunct factory that used to be one of the largest suppliers of playing cards in Gotham City and the surrounding areas. A tiny part of Batman suspected that this location just might be too easy, too obvious, but he wasn't sure where else to go. Both he and Dick had been at a loss as to what the Joker could possibly be up to, so there wasn't any harm in checking this out, was there? After all, it was better than sitting around and wondering.

Sure, it could be a trap, but Batman would simply have to stay on his toes. That was all. Nothing much new there. It was simply par for the course when these dastardly criminals were involved.

As he got out of the Batmobile, Batman's eyes went from the large loading dock at the rear of the factory up towards the windows on the second and third floors. He took a moment to weigh his options, wondering which would be the best way to enter. The windows had been boarded up, but Batman quickly spotted one on the third floor where the boards had begun falling away. Only one weathered plank remained completely in place, while another splintered board looked to be hanging on by a nail or two.

Even if the Joker was here, it was unlikely, Batman decided, that his gang would be using the top floor of the building. They'd most likely be drawn to the convenience of the first floor or the second floor at the very least. Batman couldn't see any reason for them to trudge up to the third floor of all things. Batman could easily sneak down on them from above if that was the case.

Quickly drawing his Batarang from his utility belt, Batman looked up at the building, deciding on the best place to secure his rope. He finally decided on the parapet, the short, protective brick wall on the edge of the roof, just next to the smokestack. Leaning back and raising his arm above his head, Batman threw his Batarang up above the third floor towards the roof. The Batarang curved neatly around the bricks that marked the edge of the roof, latching itself securely onto the other side. Batman quickly gave the rope a few sharp tugs before he began his ascent towards the third floor.

When Batman reached his destination, he braced himself on the Batrope, then quickly wrapped one gloved hand on the lower board that still covered the window. This plank had already been loose, so one of the nails gave way quickly. The other nail, however, still remained in place. Batman then simply let the board drop vertical, leaving it hanging on by the small piece of metal.

Batman reached up for the second board next. This one was still quite a bit more secure, so he had to tug on it several times before he was able to pry the nails out. When he finally removed the board, he hesitated for a moment. He glanced down at the ground, deciding he couldn't simply let the board drop; it could easily hit a passerby in the area and hurt them. Safety first was always one of his priorities. Luckily, the window itself had already been broken by the years of neglect, so Batman very slowly and carefully pushed the board inside. He didn't release his grip on it until it was steadily resting at an angle between the floor and wall below the window; it wouldn't do to possibly warn the Joker's gang of his presence by carelessly dropping the board and making a racket.

Next, Batman hoisted himself up a little more on the rope, nimbly climbing over the ledge of the window and setting his boots down carefully on the other side. A part of him was surprised by what he saw, but then again, another part of him had entirely been expecting it. It _had_ all been too easy, just as Batman surmised as he had pulled up to the building.

The Joker was sitting at a small playing card table with three of his minions just across the room. They were playing some sort of card game; they all appeared entirely enthralled in the cards in their hands and didn't seem to have noticed Batman enter. Batman didn't know what else he expected them to be doing. What else would have occupied their time at a playing card company after all?

The henchman to the Joker's left reached across the corner of the table, pulling one of the cards from the Joker's hand. The minion immediately grimaced in dissatisfaction as he turned the card around while the Joker began to laugh maniacally. It took Batman only a moment to realize they were playing Old Maid of all things. Not Poker like Batman had been expecting. Not even Gin Rummy or Hearts. No. The great Clown Prince of Crime was playing a children's card game.

"I would have thought such a daring criminal would have outgrown Old Maid by now," Batman commented, carefully setting his hands on his utility belt, ready for action.

Neither the Joker nor any of his minions seemed the least bit perturbed by Batman's voice echoing across the room. The Joker simply looked up at Caped Crusader like this was something they did every day and replied, "Old Maid is a classic game that harkens back to childhood, yeah. Besides, in all the time it's taken for you to show up here, we've tired of everything else, haven't we, boys?"

The henchman now holding the Old Maid card replied, "You said we were just too stupid to keep up with anything else, Boss."

The Joker rolled his eyes. "You're also too stupid to know when to keep your mouth shut, you dunderhead!" he snapped.

So they had been waiting for him. Batman didn't entirely find this surprising either. "You know," Batman said by way of an explanation, "I must admit that it took me a while to arrive at such an obvious solution. Your… _helpers_ aside, you're beyond this, aren't you? Leaving _playing cards_ when you want me to come to a _playing card company_? Why not just spray paint the address in big red letters somewhere? That would make it just as clear."

The Joker didn't answer this, but instead leaned back in his folding chair, letting out one of his signature hyena-like laughs. He began laughing so hard, he was kicking his feet up and down against the cement floor, letting up little motes of dust every time he did.

Once he had calmed down, the Joker said, "You clearly haven't arrived at the bigger solution yet, otherwise you wouldn't even be here." He paused for a moment, taking a moment to look over the cards in his hands. Without looking up at Batman, he added, "Sometimes much simpler clues are necessary for when you're having your own dunderhead moments." When the Joker raised his eyes to his adversary again, he said, "Such as now."

"And how do you intend on finishing that 'bigger solution' when I don't plan on letting you leave?" Batman asked, taking a few steps across the room.

"Isn't it delicious?" the Joker asked his followers, finally standing up from his chair. They all followed suit as the Joker added, "He thinks he has us right where he wants us, and he doesn't even realize that the said 'bigger solution' may already be well on its way to being complete."

"Is it just me, Boss," one the Joker's minions asked, "or is Batman getting dimmer and dimmer by the moment?" The four of them began closing the distance.

Batman didn't think this man was one to talk when the Joker had just been commenting on their lack of intelligence, but that wasn't important just then. As it was, Batman didn't like being so close to the wall with so little room to move around. He slowly sidestepped to the left and farther into the room as his opponents approached, allowing himself a bit more freedom of movement.

"Definitely dimmer, Jack," the Joker said, nodding.

This was when Batman noticed that all three henchmen were wearing nametags, labeling them as _Jack_ , _King_ , and _Ace_. The Joker was nothing if not predictable and here he was, insulting Batman's intelligence. Although he never commented on it, Batman always vaguely wondered if the nametags were meant to be ironic, or if the various villains he faced genuinely needed them.

"I still bet I can beat you while outnumbered," Batman simply said, widening his stance and raising his fists beside him.

"We'll see about that," the Joker drawled, launching himself in Batman's direction.

Batman easily dodged out of the way, then pivoted on his feet and landed a punch in the Joker's side. The Joker let out a heavy breath as the wind was knocked out of him, then took several steps backwards. However, it wasn't long before King came at him next, his own fists flailing aimlessly around in the air. It occurred to Batman that this particular henchman wasn't a particularly good fighter, but Batman chose not to say anything. Instead, he focused all of his energy on landing a well-aimed punch square in King's jaw.

King went flying out of the way, and Batman only had a moment to reflect on how easy this was. Something in the back of his mind told him this was all going horribly wrong, but he pushed the thought away as Ace came running at him. The henchmen didn't even bother to punch him or hit him in any way; rather, Ace simply used his hands to push Batman square in the chest. Not quite prepared for the impact, Batman backed up a few steps, trying to catch his balance. He stuck out one of his hands, planting his palm squarely on the wall to balance himself. He was now standing along the wall to the left of the window, and it occurred to him that there was a door just a few feet behind him. Batman made a mental note of this, briefly wondering where it led to, before rejoining the fray.

In the end, he wouldn't have to wonder about what was behind the door for long.

The Joker had circled around the room, coming up behind Batman. Easily following the criminal out of the corner of his eye, Batman quickly turned around, putting up an arm to block a punch. Then Jack was next to approach him, grabbing onto Batman's utility belt from his left. Batman turned, attempting to punch Jack, but then his hands quickly went to his belt. Yes, it was important to ward these men off, but at the same time, he didn't want to imagine the kind of trouble he might be in if he lost his utility belt.

Batman, however, was just a bit too slow. Jack had already happened to unbuckle the belt, pulling it down and away from Batman. Batman quickly lunged for it, but he realized his mistake too late. The Joker had firmly wrapped his arms around Batman's middle, turning and thrusting him back towards the wall.

For a moment, Batman prepared for the impact with the steel door that stood behind him. However, the door was no longer there. One of the minions had apparently pulled it open while his back had been turned. Batman was shoved into the dim and narrow room that laid beyond it and he stumbled again, attempting to regain his balance.

Batman squinted his eyes, straining to see in the darkness. He quickly realized that the only source of light in the small room was coming from above. When Batman raised his eyes to this source, he saw a sky blue circle of light several hundred feet up with a few puffy white clouds floating by. He was in the factory's smokestack.

Batman quickly turned on his feet in the effort to get out of there, but just a moment later, the door had slammed shut. This metallic sound echoed impossibly hard and loud off of the rounded walls, causing Batman to flinch slightly at the noise.

Batman immediately lunged for the door, hoping to wrench it back open. He still couldn't quite see what he was doing, but he laid his hands flat against the cold, hard metal at about waist height. He desperately ran them back and forth across the door's width, searching for a doorknob, but there wasn't one. If there had been one at some point, it had been removed and even the hole where it would have been had been covered up.

His only other option now was to try and break the door down. Batman was already fairly certain that this wouldn't work considering how large and heavy the door was, but he decided he had to try. He immediately stepped backwards then ran forward again, sprinting full force into the door with his right shoulder. This, however, only resulted in a loud metallic echoing sound and a painful jolt expanding through his arm, shoulder, and into his back.

Batman opened his mouth in a silent cry of pain, turning backwards and leaning heavily into the door. He pressed the back of his head into the door, staring up at the round patch of blue sky above. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy. They had wanted to trap him in the smokestack all along. It really had been too easy – the mindless and disorganized fighting style of the henchmen and the way they had happened to draw him towards the smokestack door. Batman supposed he wasn't entirely surprised by this either, but he struggled to wrap his mind around what the Joker's ultimate plan could be.

Once the radiating pain in the right side of his body began to fade, Batman slowly stepped away from the door. He turned around and backed up in an effort to try and take in more of the room, to figure out exactly what he was dealing with, but that had turned out to be a very bad idea indeed. His left heel didn't find anything to settle onto, causing Batman to tip backwards, swinging his arms wildly behind him in an effort to catch his balance.

"Careful," came the Joker's voice over some sort of loudspeaker. "You're on a very narrow platform in there. You probably can't see it right now. Not until your eyes adjust to the darkness, but I wouldn't make any reckless movements if I was you."

Batman sucked in a breath of air, his arms still waving madly in the air. He desperately glanced up at the sky far above him, briefly wondering if that would be the very last thing he would see on this earth. But then he somehow miraculously steadied himself and managed to swing himself forward, taking a step away from the very precarious edge of the plank beneath him.

Batman's eyes were still adjusting, so he didn't dare move again until he had a better idea of where he was. His eyes darted around the narrow room instead, waiting for the room to begin to take shape out of the dimness that surrounded him.

"Very good," the Joker's voice cackled over the loudspeaker. "It wouldn't have been much fun if you had fallen right in."

This immediately caused Batman to look downwards, wondering exactly what he would have fallen into. He still couldn't quite see, so the Joker answered this unspoken question for him.

"Hydrochloric acid," the Joker said. "There's a shallow pool of it all the way down there. An ugly way to die. If you survive the three story drop, that is. I'm not quite sure which one would be worse."

Batman would have taken the much quicker instant death that would have awaited him after such a drop rather than the slow and agonizing death by acid. He kept his mouth shut, however. He certainly wouldn't give the Joker the satisfaction.

It occurred to Batman that he could just begin to make out the edges of the platform he was standing on. It was as wide as the door itself, a good three feet, and spanned about half of the room. The room was probably about twelve feet wide in all, again leaving Batman to wonder exactly what the Joker had planned with it. He supposed, however, that the platform he was standing on could more or less be considered a plank, something that people could possibly be forced to walk off of. At the moment, Batman couldn't see how the Joker could force him to do so, but he wouldn't put it past the dastardly scoundrel either. The Joker could even possibly have it rigged in some way so that it would purposefully drop him. Batman really didn't want to think about that right now, but he supposed that now was better than later.

If it came to that, then Batman certainly had to think of an alternative. His hands immediately and instinctively went to his waist, but then it occurred to him that the Joker's gang had already ensured that he didn't have his utility belt to save him in this instance. Balling his hands up into fists, Batman quickly looked around the smokestack again, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

The entire smokestack itself was made of brick and mortar, and Batman couldn't see very many places that he could grab onto if he needed to. There were a few areas here and there where the bricks and cement had crumbled away during the years of the factory's disuse, but certainly nothing that would make for a practical place to cling to for dear life. Then he saw them – a few metal rungs here and there that had probably formed ladders once upon a time for the maintenance workers. Most of them had rusted and fallen away, leaving holes in the walls where they had once been.

Batman counted three of these remaining rungs – one at about the height of his shoulders directly across from the door, another one a good ten feet above that one, and one more several feet above the door itself. If worse came to worse, these metal rungs were going to be his best option if the floor suddenly fell out from under him, so to speak.

The one above the door would have been his preferred perch, as it would give him the closest access to the door while he thought of a way out. Unfortunately, it was much too high for him to reach without the contents of his utility belt. It was a good five feet above his head and there were no other footholds nearby to boost himself up on. The rung directly across from him would be his best bet; he would have to leap the six feet from the edge of the plank, but it was certainly more feasible than jumping five feet straight up.

"Putting two and two together now, Batman?" came the Joker's voice once again, breaking Batman from his thoughts. "I'm sure you've surmised by now that the platform underneath you won't remain for long. You will have to find something else to hang onto, but even then, how long will your fingers be able to hold your weight? They will give out at some time, plummeting you down to your untimely demise. Whether that will be from the acid or the fall itself remains to be seen. In any case, if you wish to put that off for as long as possible, I suggest you decide on a course of action. Now."

The platform Batman was standing on suddenly jerked backwards towards the door. Just as Batman had suspected, it was slowly drawing into the wall and would soon leave him with nothing to stand on whatsoever. Batman directed his attention on the metal rung across from him, taking a moment to focus on it, to concentrate on exactly where he was jumping to.

Just then, the Joker made a clicking sound with his tongue, mimicking the ticking of a clock. "Your time is already running precariously thin, Caped Crusader. Soon you will be left without a leg to stand on, and do not even think about asking me for a hand in the matter." The Joker broke off into a fit of uncontrollably laughter. "Now I would love to be able to stay and watch the show," the Joker added when he had regained his composure, "but I have somewhere I must be. I will be back in plenty of time, however, to see the acid eating away at your remains. Farewell, Batman."

Swallowing audibly, Batman desperately tried to block out the Joker's antics, still focusing only on the metal rung across from him. He drew his hands into fists again, taking a few steps backwards as the platform itself drew him even closer to the very flat and smooth door behind him. He paused, took a deep breath, then made a run for it. He bolted across the platform, leaping off the end of it, and reaching his arms out towards the metal rung as he sailed through the air.

Batman's last thought as he did this was Dick. Batman's entire life depended on that metal rung, that was the only thing between life and death. The only thing that would bring him back home to Dick right now. Then Batman briefly wondered if the old and rusted piece of metal would even hold his weight anymore and what in the world he would even do if it did. But then he immediately put that thought out of his mind. It _had_ to hold him and he _had_ to find a way out. For Dick's sake.

He was out of any other options.

* * *

 _When we last left Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, he had just seen Batman off on his latest lead involving the Joker. Sometime has passed since Dick last saw his guardian, so let us see how he is once again passing the time, waiting for Bruce to return…_

After dinner that evening, Dick had moved on up to his bedroom to continue to work on his term paper on _Animal Farm_. He sat at his desk, reading it over for about the millionth time. He hadn't intended on finishing the entire thing tonight, but it had kept his mind off of Bruce for the evening. Otherwise, Dick probably would have been making himself frantic with worry, probably fruitlessly pacing the room, so he chose to follow Alfred's advice on the matter – keep busy.

Now, however, it was getting impossibly late, and his term paper had worn out its welcome. Dick couldn't think of a single thing to add to it or to change, so he supposed he was done with it, at least for the time being. He had been dreading this moment, when he would have nothing left to occupy his mind, but reading the paper over and over again was beginning to make his head spin. It didn't quite make sense to him anymore, and his thoughts were beginning to meander to Bruce again anyway.

Dick carefully straightened the pages of his paper, then tucked them inside the bright red folder he had for his English homework. Turning around in his seat, Dick returned his folder to his bookbag, which was hanging on the back of his desk chair by the straps. He zipped his bag shut, then looked about his room, searching for something else to do.

All of his other homework was done. His bed had been made long ago, and the room itself was neat as a pin. There was absolutely nothing else he had to do right now, unless he wanted to join Alfred in dusting and cleaning the Batcave from top to bottom. Dick briefly decided against this, however; he wasn't quite desperate enough to begin cleaning just yet. He wasn't sure how long that would last, but he would look for something else to do right now. He supposed he could try sleeping, considering it was going on towards midnight, but Dick would never be able to calm down enough for that.

Aunt Harriet would have a fit if she knew Dick was staying up so late anymore, but it was Saturday night. At least he didn't have to be up for school early in the morning and no one would particularly care if he wanted to sleep in for bit.

Just then, a knock came at Dick's bedroom door.

Gasping in an excited breath of air, Dick turned towards the sound, hoping against hope that Bruce would walk in. However, when the door opened a few inches, Alfred stuck his head in.

Dick tried to hide the disappointment from his face as he asked, "Still nothing?"

"I'm afraid not, Master Dick," Alfred whispered, coming into the room and closing the door.

"It's been nearly ten hours," Dick said dejectedly, shaking his head. "He would have checked in by now if he could."

Alfred considered this for a brief moment, tilting his head back and forth before answering. "Not necessarily. He could simply be following a long string of clues and lost track of time. He does that every so often. It can be frustrating, but nothing to worry about just yet."

"But I asked him to call me if he was going to be late!" Dick muttered. He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it down on his thigh in anger. "He promised he wouldn't let me stay up all night worrying about him again."

Alfred quickly crossed the room, approaching Dick and laying comforting a hand on the young boy's shoulders. "I know," Alfred said quietly, "but I promise I'm not concerned just yet. You know how Master Bruce gets when he begins concentrating on something in earnest."

The very corner of Dick's mouth curled up into a smirk. "I know," Dick replied. "I've had to repeat entire stories to him while we've been playing chess, because he was too wrapped up in the game to pay attention." Dick snickered. "And he's always told me what a bad thing that is, because it's always important to be aware of one's surroundings. I always wondered if he did it on purpose to use it as a teaching moment, but I guess not."

"Indeed," Alfred agreed. "I imagine him to be sitting in the Batmobile somewhere, all of his concentration directed on solving some clue or puzzle, and he's completely forgotten to check the time. He'll be calling as soon as he realizes how late it's gotten."

Sighing again, Dick muttered, "I guess." He looked at his bed warily. "I have no idea how I'm going to get to sleep tonight if we don't hear from him though."

"We don't have to go to sleep just yet."

"But Aunt Harriet…!"

"Doesn't have to know," Alfred said, winking down at Dick. "As you've said so yourself many times."

"She'd be fit to be tied if she knew what's been going on around here lately."

"She'd be fit to be tied if she knew your guardian was Batman," Alfred pointed out, "end of story."

"Yeah," Dick whispered, "especially now that I'm more or less involved in it." Dick paused for a moment, pressing the fingers of left hand against his mouth in thought. "That's so crazy, isn't it? If you had told me just six months ago that I'd be aware of Batman's secret identity and helping him, however little, with cases, I would have laughed at you. Now it's hard for me to imagine _not_ being involved in it."

"This is your new normal," Alfred added.

Dick nodded solemnly. "As frustrating and worrisome as it is though, I don't think I'd trade it for the world." He glanced up at Alfred uncertainly. "Is that crazy too?"

"Not at all, Master Dick," Alfred reassured him, squeezing the boy's shoulder once again. "I've known for much longer than you have, but Batman is such a large part of who Master Bruce is, I can't imagine not knowing."

"Me neither," Dick agreed. "We've shared so much and grown so much closer since I've found out, and I wouldn't want to go back to the way we were before. I remember being so mad all the time when he would get a call and suddenly have to leave. At least now I understand why, and I know he does it because he has an obligation to the people of this city. It was never anything personal, and I know he hid it from me for protection – mine and his – but…" Dick trailed off, shaking his head and biting his lip in uncertainty. "Is it egotistical to feel proud that he trusts me with all of this now? That he lets me _help_ him with his cases? I mean, he doesn't have to do that. He could still tell me it's none of my business."

"I don't think it's egotistical to feel that way, no," Alfred said around a smile. "This is a big responsibility, one that Master Bruce doesn't put on just anyone. Yes, you wormed your way into it, but he wouldn't be including you now if he didn't trust you immensely. That's something to be proud of, I think."

This caused Dick to smile once more. That was one thing Alfred could always be counted on for – to cheer Dick up even when he couldn't possibly think of smiling. The more Dick thought about Alfred's words, he still couldn't quite believe that he had indeed figured Bruce's secret identity out on his own, nor could he believe that it had only been a few short months ago. So much had happened since then, it felt like an eternity.

Then, Dick's thoughts once again settled on the matter at hand. "You really think he's okay?" Dick asked, looking up at Alfred hopefully.

"We have to think positively, Master Dick," Alfred answered. "Fearing the worst will only make you feel worse, and oftentimes, you come to find out that that all could have been prevented. Believe me, I laid awake in bed too many times to count, certain that something horrible had happened, only to find Master Bruce safe and sound the next morning."

"I keep telling myself that that'll happen tomorrow," Dick said, "but…" He trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

"It will," Alfred reassured. "But how about some warm milk? It'll help calm you down and perhaps you can get some sleep before Master Bruce arrives home and regales us with the story of how he caught the Joker this time."

"Yeah," Dick said, standing up from his chair.

Alfred led the way out of the room, Dick trailing behind. Dick only wished he could be as positive as Alfred was. He supposed that Alfred had learned a long time ago that Batman always returned home safe and sound, but good things always came to an end, didn't they? Dick could easily lose Bruce just like he had lost his parents. As much as Dick didn't want to admit it, Batman's luck would eventually run out, and then what? What would Dick do without Bruce? Without the man who had become like a father to him?

Dick knew he was getting way ahead of himself, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something very horrible had happened.

 _What on earth could have possibly become of Batman, Batfans?  
_ _Is he still hanging on for dear life?  
_ _Has he figured out a way to escape the Joker's devilish trap?  
_ _Is Dick right to be so worried?_

 _For the answers to these and other unthinkable questions,  
_ _Tune in next time…  
_ _Same fan site...  
_ _Same fan channel._

 _Keep hanging on until then!_


	3. Chapter 3: On His Guard

_When we last left Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, it had been nearing the midnight hour as he worried with Alfred over his guardian's whereabouts. With the sun dawning anew upon Gotham City, let us see how Dick has gotten through the night._

Dick fell into a fitful sleep that evening. Even with Alfred's cup of warm milk, it had done nothing to calm his nerves, and he had ended up tossing and turning most of the night. Dick eventually passed out from pure exhaustion, only sleeping for a few short hours before he opened his eyes to bright spring sunshine streaming through his window.

Squinting against the unwelcome intrusion, Dick sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He immediately knew that Bruce was still gone, however; Bruce would have come into his room to tell him he was home no matter the hour. Since he hadn't done that, it meant that Bruce was still missing. The uncomfortable feeling that had been present in Dick's stomach the night before suddenly seemed to transform into a brick. It pressed uncomfortably against his insides, making him feel vaguely sick.

Then again, Dick made a mental note not to get ahead of himself. If Bruce hadn't come home, that still didn't mean that Alfred hadn't heard from him at some point during the night. Perhaps Alfred currently had some good news waiting for him, and then Dick could stop all of this incessant worrying. In the back of Dick's mind, however, he knew that that wasn't true. If Alfred had received any sort of good news, he would have notified Dick immediately. Dick had been tied in knots the night before, and he knew Alfred never would have let him remain in that state if he could help it.

Throwing back his covers, Dick let out a heavy sigh before lowering his feet to the floor. He slid his feet into his slippers, getting up from his bed and grabbing his robe from the chair near the door. Shrugging his robe on, Dick wrenched open the door and slowly made his way downstairs.

Dick's nose told him that Alfred had made eggs and bacon for breakfast. Normally, Dick would have been running down the steps, ready to devour his first meal of the day. As it was, however, Dick didn't think he'd ever quite feel like eating again. At least, not until Bruce was home safe and sound.

Alfred was waiting at the bottom of the steps, and the grim expression on his face told Dick everything he needed to know. Sighing again, Dick descended the last few steps to the foyer, firmly grabbing onto the railing for support.

"Anything?" Dick asked quietly, his eyes wide and pleading.

Alfred simply shook his head, his eyes betraying his concern. What had been positivity last night had quickly degraded into concern, and Dick couldn't blame him. But now, who was supposed to lift Dick's spirits and keep him from worrying too much?

"Alfred, something's wrong!" Dick exclaimed in a whisper. He wasn't quite sure where Aunt Harriet was this morning, and he didn't want to risk her overhearing their conversation.

Alfred took a few steps over to Dick, laying his hand comfortingly on top of Dick's over the railing. "Master Dick," Alfred said quietly, "as soon as we eat breakfast, I'm going to call Commissioner Gordon to see if he's heard anything. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"Why not now?!" Dick demanded loudly. He was aware of the fact that he sounded vaguely like a bratty child who had not gotten his way, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"It's still early," Alfred reminded him. "The Commissioner probably isn't even in the office yet. Give him a minute and let's get some food in our systems first. We'll work better on a full stomach."

"I'm not even hungry," Dick muttered, tugging angrily at the belt around his robe. He crossed him arms over his chest, his mind running absolutely crazy with possibilities about where Bruce could be. Or if Bruce was even among the living anymore. This made Dick feel even more sick, and he forced his mind off of that topic altogether.

"We'll find him," Alfred tried to reassure him, but even his voice was beginning to waver now.

Just then, Aunt Harriet entered the foyer from the living room and she appeared quite perturbed herself. "Merciful heavens, is Bruce missing a meal again?" she asked fretfully, curling her hands into fists. "I swear, that man would waste away if we weren't here to keep an eye on him half the time!"

Dick had to force himself to keep his mouth shut. He really wanted to begin yelling that they had no idea where Bruce was. Bruce could have been dead for all they knew, and Aunt Harriet was fussing over a few eggs and bacon of all things. Dick loved his Aunt Harriet and he knew it wasn't her fault, but Dick realized just then how difficult it could be to keep Bruce's secret when things went awry.

"Mrs. Cooper," Alfred said as firmly as he could, "I'm sure Master Bruce is getting a good breakfast wherever he may be. You know how important three square meals are to him." Alfred wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders as he led her into the kitchen.

Dick watched them go. Again, he was finding just how very difficult it was not to comment on the situation. Wherever Bruce was, Dick was entirely sure eating wasn't a priority to him at the moment. If Bruce was able to do such things like eat at all, he would have already at least phoned them to let them know he was okay. As it was, Dick knew something much more dire was going on.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dick forced himself to follow Alfred and Aunt Harriet into the kitchen. He still wasn't the last bit hungry, but he knew he had to put up appearances for his aunt. If Dick wouldn't eat, then Aunt Harriet would have twice as much to worry about then just Bruce's eating habits.

Dick forced down as much of his breakfast as he could. Every single bite felt like a chore, and Dick was simply going through the motions until breakfast was over. The only thing Dick wanted to do at the moment was to contact Commissioner Gordon and hopefully get some answers as to Bruce's whereabouts. Dick still wasn't entirely sure that the Commissioner could help them either, but they had to start somewhere.

After what felt like forever, the breakfast dishes had been cleaned up, and Dick followed Alfred into Bruce's study. This was another thing that Dick was still getting used to. Bruce's study had always been off limits to him before, and a part of Dick felt like he was intruding now. Bruce had told him it was okay for him to be in there now that he knew Bruce's secret, but it still almost felt like a sacred place that Dick shouldn't be in.

Alfred made his way over to the Batphone, picked up the receiver, and pressed the big large button in the middle of the base.

Normally, Dick would mind his own business and wait across the room until the phone call was over. However, given the seriousness of the circumstances, he simply couldn't contain himself. Dick crossed the room to Alfred, stood on his tiptoes, and leaned in so that he could hear the Commissioner's side of the conversation as well. When Alfred didn't make any objections, Dick knew that it was okay.

"Batman!" came Commissioner Gordon's voice on the other end of the line a few moments later. "Oh, thank goodness! Chief O'Hara and I were beginning to get worried when we hadn't heard from you since yesterday."

These words made Dick's heart sink even further. It now felt as if his heart was sitting in the vicinity of his stomach. If the Commissioner didn't even know where Batman was, then this was very serious indeed.

"No, sir," Alfred said, his voice cracking a bit. "It's me." Alfred took a moment to straighten the pens on the desk, and Dick could tell he was just as nervous. After swallowing loudly, Alfred said, "I hadn't heard from Batman since yesterday either, and…I was getting concerned myself."

A moment of silence punctuated the room. No one said anything and no one moved a muscle. The only thing Dick could hear was Alfred's heavy breathing and the erratic beating of his heart inside his own chest. Dick looked up into Alfred's bright blue eyes, and they seemed to reflect Dick's own concern.

After a moment, Commissioner Gordon replied, "Unfortunately, we haven't had any updates either." More silence. "Do you know where he was headed last? I could send my men to check it out."

Dick wasn't entirely sure that that was such a great idea. More than once, it had occurred to him just how incompetent the police department was. Dick never commented on the matter, and Bruce was always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, reminding all involved that everyone made mistakes. As it was though, Gotham City wouldn't even have a need for Batman if the police department was doing a good job, would it? Dick knew that Bruce would be disappointed in him for thinking so lowly of the police force, the people who put their lives on the line to serve this city, but Dick couldn't help where his thoughts went sometimes. Dick just made a mental note to never talk about such things, especially in front of Bruce.

Alfred hesitated for the briefest moment, and Dick wondered if he was having the same exact reservations. In the end, however, Dick supposed they had to start somewhere. If the police department wasn't going to go after him, then who? There was no one else.

"He left yesterday afternoon to follow a lead at the Joker's Wild Card Company," Alfred said after a moment. "That was the last I heard anything from him."

"I will have my men check it out immediately!" Commissioner Gordon said. "I will let you know the minute we have any news!"

"Thank you," Alfred said quietly, replacing the receiver in its cradle.

Alfred and Dick stood and stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Neither of them said a word, and Dick shoved his hands into the pockets of robe just for something to do.

"This is bad," Dick finally muttered, turning away from the butler and beginning to pace the room. "If the police don't even know where he is…" Dick trailed off, not able to form such thoughts into words. Turning back to face Alfred, Dick desperately asked, "What are we going to do?"

"We are going to wait until we hear something back from the Commissioner," Alfred said. Somehow, miraculously, he had seemed to regain his composure and his tone was as calm as ever.

"Alfred…" Dick began, but Alfred gently cut him off.

"We are going to wait."

Dick forced himself into silence. He had to admit that Alfred was right; there was simply nothing else for them to do at the moment. Staring down at the ground, Dick could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, and he tried his best to blink them away.

"Today is going to be awful, isn't it?" Dick asked, glancing up at Alfred. "I think I did my share of waiting yesterday."

"As did I," Alfred said. He stepped closer to Dick, curling an arm around his shoulders. "But we'll wait some more. Don't worry. The police are going to find something."

Dick wasn't entirely sure about that, but he chose not to say anything. Such a thing wouldn't be helpful or prudent right now. They had enough to worry about at the moment without Dick bringing things down even more with his pessimistic attitude. Besides, wouldn't Bruce want him to look on the bright side? Dick very much doubted that Bruce would want him to be wallowing in despair when they didn't even know what was going on yet.

"What do we do until then?" Dick asked. "I finished all my homework yesterday, and I even finished my term paper. I have nothing else left to work on."

"You can help me clean," Alfred immediately volunteered. "There's always something in the Batcave that needs tended to."

Dick grimaced. Cleaning wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, but he didn't know what else to do. In the end, Dick supposed that sticking close by Alfred's side through this wasn't a terrible option. It sure beat being alone, and Dick liked being in the Batcave; it always managed to make him feel closer to Bruce at times like this.

Alfred began leading him out of the room. "Why don't you go get showered, and dressed, and meet me down there when you're ready?"

Dick nodded solemnly. At least showering would give him something to do in the meantime. It had only now occurred to him that he probably would feel much better once he was clean and in a change of clothes anyway.

* * *

Dick ended up helping Alfred in the Batcave until nearly lunchtime. Dick had gotten the task of polishing the ladder rungs on the nuclear reactor, and truth be told, he hadn't realized exactly how dirty they'd gotten over time. The simple act of people's shoes traveling up and down the ladder rungs certainly trailed a lot of dirt over them.

Dick didn't really hate what he was doing either. Sure, it might sound like boring manual labor, something that might be forced upon a child as punishment, but he actually found himself enjoying it for some odd reason. The ladder rungs had grooves in them, and Dick ended up being amused by trying to scrub the dirt out of those crevices. Perhaps he was just weird.

Just as Dick was finishing up with the ladder rung at the very top, the Batphone began beeping. The sound echoed throughout the cave, and it nearly made Dick jump a mile in the air. He had been desperately waiting for that sound for the last twenty-four hours, and now that he heard it, it didn't quite seem real.

Dick glanced across the cave at Alfred. The Butler had been carefully cleaning the dust from between the keys at the Batcomputer. He immediately looked up at Dick when he heard the sound of the Batphone, their eyes connecting for what felt like an eternity.

Finally springing into motion, Alfred used the rag he was holding to wipe off his hands while he made his way across the Batcave. Meanwhile, Dick threw down his own rag, carelessly letting it drop the floor. Bruce would have probably scolded him for that; it wasn't polite nor was it safe to throw things like dirty rags about. Someone could have been walking past and they could have easily slipped on it. Considering the circumstances, however, Dick thought it might be okay just this one time. There were much more important things going on than the location of dirty rags!

Dick descended the ladder rungs two at a time, quickly dropping to the floor of the Batcave. He sprinted across the room, arriving at Alfred's side just as he picked up the Batphone's receiver.

"Hello?" Alfred asked into the receiver, not entirely sure who was going to be on the other end.

Dick was hoping against hope that Bruce's strong and calm voice would meet them from the other end, ensuring them that he had gotten to safety, but it wasn't meant to be. The police commissioner ended up answering back, and a tiny part of Dick wondered if he would ever hear Bruce's voice again. He really missed that – just the simple sound of his mentor's voice.

"I was checking to see if you've heard from Batman yet," Commissioner Gordon said.

At this, Alfred frowned deeply, staring down at Dick. In response, Dick closed his eyes and lowered his head. That one sentence from the Commissioner more or less answered their question – he had no idea where Batman was any more than they did.

Alfred laid a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder before he replied, "No, sir. We haven't."

There was a burning silence on the other end of the line for a few brief moments. Then the Commissioner sighed and said, "Nor have we, unfortunately. I sent my men to check out the Joker's Wild Card Company. Strangely enough, we found the Batmobile outside of the factory itself, but absolutely no sign of Batman. We swept the building from top to bottom and it appears that the Joker and his gang were there not so very long ago, but it's empty now. We found evidence that Batman did indeed make it inside, but what happened to him after that, we're not sure. We assume that they all left together, but whether it was under the Joker's will or Batman's remains to be seen. We're still going over the evidence we recovered from the scene, and we'll continue to search for them."

Dick shook his head miserably, taking a few steps away from Alfred. Dick couldn't quite bear to stand there and listen to the police's misguided attempts at trying to find Batman. Dick had already found a glaring mistake in what Commissioner Gordon had said, and it was taking everything in him not to shout it out right then and there.

If Batman had been the least bit in control of the situation, he would have contacted Dick and Alfred as soon as he could. There was absolutely no way Bruce would have gone this long letting them worry about him.

"Please let me know if you hear anything," Alfred said. He was trying his best to keep his voice from shaking, but the quiver in it was completely obvious to Dick at least.

After Alfred hung up the Batphone, an immense, heavy, and deafening silence engulfed the Batcave. It took Dick a very long time before he could turn back to face Alfred again, and he really wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was that all too familiar feeling of losing something that was so very important to him. If Dick was truly honest with himself, this was very well-known territory to him.

The exact same thing had happened just after his parents had died. He had retreated into his own personal shell, deliberately isolating himself from anyone that tried to get close to him. It was exactly why he almost hadn't met Bruce on that fateful first day of summer two years ago. It was why it had taken him nearly a year to even begin to warm up to the man and let himself get close to Bruce.

Because Dick was terrified of losing anyone else close to him. But then he had begun to let Bruce in, and it all seemed to happen so very quickly. Alfred too. Now if Bruce was gone, it was Dick's very instinct to try and push Alfred away so he couldn't be hurt anymore.

Except Bruce wasn't dead yet. Not that they were aware of yet anyway. So why was Dick automatically assuming he was? Because that would be par for the course where Dick was concerned, wouldn't it? His parents had died so it wouldn't really be out of the realm of possibility that something could happen to Bruce as well.

But this was stupid. Bruce could very well still be out there and Dick had to stop trying to write him off as dead already. There was possibly still time to save him, and it wouldn't do Bruce any good if Dick started to close himself off from the world right now.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dick took a deep breath before turning back to face Alfred once more.

"What are we going to do?" Dick asked. That was his go-to question at the moment, it seemed.

"They're still looking into it," Alfred said as calmly as he could. "We're going to wait."

"Except something is seriously wrong, Alfred," Dick said, beginning to pace up and down the center of the Batcave. He was wringing his hands together, one inside the other. After a moment of silence, he stopped and turned back to look at Alfred. "Has he ever been gone this long before?"

Alfred considered this, his eyes seeming to become unfocused, as if he was remembering some long-forgotten memory. "No, Master Dick. I can safely say that he hasn't. The only other time that has come close was when Catwoman had him trapped in some sort of underground lair. It took him a while to find his way out of that one, but even then, he got word to me as soon as he was able. He had been gone just overnight at that point."

"Nowhere near twenty-four hours."

"No."

Dick shook his head. It boggled his mind that Bruce had obviously already been able to get out of so many scrapes. How did he seem to manage to do it every time? It was like he was some sort of god or something, even though Dick knew that he shouldn't think of any mere human in such a way. Then again, this was _Bruce_. Bruce had always seemed a bit infallible to him, which was why it hurt so much whenever Bruce did do things like cancel their plans together. No one was perfect, least of all Bruce, but in some ways, Dick thought that Bruce was probably as close to perfect in his eyes as anyone was likely to come. Even with the fact that Bruce did break promises to him, Dick knew now that it had always been for good reasons. He hadn't been able to see that at first, but he did now. Bruce was…amazing. Absolutely amazing.

Dick knew Bruce wouldn't want him to view him in that way; Bruce would insist he wasn't all that great, that he still made mistake and had an enormous amount of flaws, but Dick couldn't help the way he felt. Now that he knew Bruce's secret identity, Bruce was more or less Dick's hero, and weren't heroes always put up on some sort of pedestal?

That thought, however, also planted a tiny seed of doubt in Dick's mind. Even with how amazing Bruce was, his luck was bound to run out sooner or later. He couldn't keep flawlessly escaping from these crazy criminals' clutches, could he? Heroes always seemed to fall down off those pedestals they were put up on. At some point or another, he had to slip up...and then what? What was Gotham City supposed to do if something happened to their beloved hero? Dick only wished that there was someone else to go after Batman, someone that would keep an eye on him and make sure that he stayed safe at all times.

But who? Who on earth did Dick know who was comparable to Batman? Who did Dick know who could step in in the unlikely case that Batman happened to falter? When Batman wasn't perfect? What if, after all their investigation, the police department came up empty-handed? Shouldn't that then fall to the citizens of Gotham City? But who exactly could fill those shoes? People like Alfred and Aunt Harriet were the citizens of Gotham City, but Dick could scarcely imagine one of them running into some villain's hideout in search of Batman.

Dick's thoughts began to drift into what he thought was most likely very dangerous territory next, so he tried to divert them back to something a little bit more manageable. At least for now.

Shaking his head, Dick said, "Don't you feel how very wrong this is? You know if he was able to get word to us at all, he would have done so by now. He wouldn't be letting us drive ourselves crazy, wondering where he's been for the last twenty-four hours." Dick paused, taking a deep breath. "I've been trying not to think about it, but he's _got_ to be in some sort of trouble _somewhere_. And it isn't like Commissioner Gordon suggested." Dick waved his hand absent-mindedly at the Batphone. "Batman isn't chasing the Joker somewhere, because _we both know_ he would have let us know if he was. Someone or something is keeping him from contacting us."

Alfred didn't say anything for a long time, but then he finally decided to ask the loaded question. "So what are you proposing?"

Dick bit his lip in uncertainty. He was ready for Alfred to tell him he was completely crazy. To scold him in that calm and understated tone of his and tell him not to even think about such ridiculous things. But when it came right down to it, what Dick wanted to do wasn't all that crazy if he thought about it.

"I want to check out that factory," Dick said firmly.

"Master Dick," Alfred said, "the police have already done that."

"What if they missed something?" Dick asked, sounding a bit desperate. "Commissioner Gordon said so himself that the place was deserted now. That the Joker and his gang had left. What's the harm in going and looking? What if I see something that the police have missed? What if I spot something that could help us find him?"

Alfred didn't miss the particular word that Dick used – _us_ – because his eyes momentarily pierced Dick with a penetrating stare.

Before Alfred could interrupt, however, Dick said, "This is why Bruce lets me help him, you know. Because I have an eye for certain things. Because I can spot things that oftentimes he can't."

"Yes," Alfred said a bit wearily. "Master Bruce deeply values your input, but you _know_ he would never want to you get involved in this. Didn't he make you promise that whatever happened, you would stay out of it?"

"We didn't talk about the possibility that something could happen to Bruce himself!" Dick argued. "Under normal circumstances, then yes, I promised I would stay out of it, but these aren't quite normal circumstances anymore, are they?"

Alfred simply stared at him, not daring to say anything more at the moment. "No," Alfred finally admitted. "I'm sure even Master Bruce would have refrained from calling these 'normal circumstances', but even so, you made him a promise. End of story. You know he wouldn't want you to be going to the Joker's hideout after him. Even if the police found it deserted, there's no telling when or if they may return. What if…?"

Dick knew exactly what Alfred had been planning on saying, so Dick aptly cut him off. "What if Bruce is in some sort of trouble he can't get out of and no one is coming to help him? Not even the police," Dick added dejectedly, staring down at the floor of the Batcave. "What if there's something they missed? Something I can _find_? What if I can _do_ something, Alfred?"

"What if you ended up finding trouble yourself?" Alfred asked. He took several steps towards Dick, closing the distance between them. Alfred laid his hands on the young boy's shoulders, gripping them firmly. "The police have enough to deal with at the moment trying to find Batman, and you don't want to put even more on their plate. Not to mention, you _know_ Master Bruce wouldn't want you putting yourself in harm's way, even for him. That's why he made you make that promise to him."

"I know," Dick admitted, sounded dejected. "But I feel like I can _help_ , Alfred. What if this is the one time that Batman falters? What if I can help him? Shouldn't I _do_ something instead of standing here and wondering? I mean, if worse comes to worst, how will I feel knowing I did nothing while the man's that been like a father to me was dying?"

"We don't know…"

" _Exactly_ ," Dick cut him off gently once again. "We _don't_ know, so isn't it time to take that chance instead of _doing nothing_? And don't even tell me that the police are on it, because we both know they can fail as well. It's partially why this city needs Batman at all." Alfred raised an eyebrow at him and added, "Oh, I would never say this to Bruce's face, but you and I both know it's true."

"A fourteen-year-old boy is hardly the one to step in when the police can't help," Alfred pointed out. "We both know that and so does Master Bruce. We both know he would want you to stay right here where you're safe. Even searching what may be an abandoned factory for a few clues isn't what Master Bruce would have wanted for you, even if he was staring death in the face."

"Well…" Dick muttered, but then he cut himself. He knew that Alfred spoke nothing but the truth. This was why Dick had had that conversation with Bruce in his bedroom at all – the one where Dick had emphatically promised not to put his life in danger.

"But…don't desperate times call for desperate measures?" Dick asked. "Isn't there a time when promises need to be broken? Not to mention, hasn't Bruce already done enough for me? Isn't it time that I finally do something for him instead?"

"I wasn't suggesting that he hasn't done a lot for you," Alfred said gently. "I know he has. He's done a lot for me too, and I would never suggest otherwise. Master Bruce is…almost amazing in all that he's done for…everyone."

"That's exactly what I mean!" Dick exclaimed, throwing up his hands for emphasis. "Isn't it about time that someone do something for him?"

"That's not what you said before," Alfred pointed out. "You said that _you_ should do something to help him."

Dick paused. He suddenly found it hard to meet Alfred's eyes. Dick stared down at the floor of the Batcave at their feet. After what seemed like forever, Dick whispered, "He has been training me."

"Master Dick," Alfred interrupted, "at first you only wanted to _search_ the factory." He let go of Dick's shoulders, beginning to pace up and down the Batcave. "Now you're talking about the minimal training that Master Bruce has provided you with."

"I have to be prepared in case they come back!" Dick cried. "I mean, ideally they won't, but I have to be ready in case they do."

Alfred stared at him and then he shook his head. "You're talking crazy now. I hesitate to use that word, but imagine what Master Bruce would say if he was standing here right now. Imagine what he would tell you if you started talking about all these plans to run into the Joker's hideout."

"But Bruce isn't here right now," Dick said. "He isn't, and he may never be again if I don't _do_ something. The longer we stand here talking…"

"You're getting way too ahead of yourself," Alfred interrupted, still not willing to even let Dick fathom for a moment that this could be a possibility. "Think about this," Alfred implored. "Really think about this. You don't know if it's some sort of trap or what's really going on with him. He could be using Batman as some sort of lure…"

"But no one knows he has me, Alfred!" Dick cut him off, the solution seeming to hit him so clearly and so easily. "The Riddler was able to figure it out, sure, but…he was the only one. And since you and Batman were able to put that ridiculous rumor to rest, I can't see who else the Joker would be after. Who else is there for him to lure into a trap? Batman would be the most valuable thing someone like the Joker could possibly have. How can he imagine ever topping that?"

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out at first. Then he tilted his head back and forth several times in thought.

" _The Joker doesn't know he has me_ ," Dick repeated, this time taking a moment to emphasize every single word he was saying. Dick suddenly resumed his pacing, his plan beginning to take shape in his mind and making him more excited with every word he spoke. "It could be the perfect opportunity to sneak in there and _help_ him. I don't know what sort of help that could possibly be, but…" Dick stopped, turning back to Alfred and giving him a very pleading look. "I don't know, Alfred, but I know _I've got to try_."

A very long an uncomfortable silence fell across the cave. Alfred's mind was working furiously, because Dick could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Dick threw his mind about, desperately trying to come up with another argument before Alfred told him once and for all to stop this foolish nonsense.

"How old was Bruce when he went off on his first investigation?" Dick asked before he could stop himself. He almost thought that he was overstepping his bounds, that he was poking and prodding too much, but Dick knew he couldn't stop. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt now that Bruce was in serious trouble, and Dick was hardly going to stand around wondering for another moment.

"That is hardly a fair question to ask," Alfred said. His tone was firm, unwavering.

"Was he my age?" Dick asked boldly.

Alfred watched him closely, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. When he finally spoke, he said, "As a matter of fact, he was. And he had been in martial arts classes for _years_ by that point." He gave Dick a pointed look.

"So have I!" Dick exclaimed. "My life didn't start when I came here, Alfred. You know I had martial arts training as part of my circus career."

"You said so yourself," Alfred reminded him, "you feel rusty and out of practice, and you've only been training with Master Bruce for a few weeks."

"That doesn't mean I can't do it," Dick argued. "You heard the story of what happened with the Riddler when Batman came to rescue me. Even Bruce said he could tell how well-trained I was." Dick really didn't like patting himself on the back. In fact, all the people he'd ever looked up to in his life were terribly humble and had taught him to be the very same way. However, there were times in life when such things were excusable, such as when he was trying to convince Alfred to let him lead a rescue mission for Batman.

"I'm not denying you're well-trained," Alfred conceded, "but you also had Batman's help then. You weren't fighting the Riddler and his cohorts by yourself. Do you really mean to tell me that you could take on the Joker and several of his henchmen by yourself?"

Dick wanted nothing more than to keep pushing his point, but he couldn't flat-out lie to Alfred. He knew that Alfred was only looking out for his best interests. Not to mention, Alfred also had a duty to Bruce to uphold what he would have wanted. Dick knew that Alfred wasn't just going to let him go out on his own to fight a bunch of criminals.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dick shook his head and stared down at the floor of the Batcave. "No," Dick muttered.

"I know you want to help Master Bruce," Alfred said. "I want to help him too, but far be it from me to send you off to what could possibly be your death. I'd have Master Bruce to answer to in the end if it came to that."

Dick contained the urge to roll his eyes. "Alfred…"

"I'm not exaggerating," Alfred cut him off. "These are hardened and dangerous criminals! I don't want you to have any overblown expectations about how you would handle yourself against them. If Batman could get himself into sticky spots, you very easily could as well. Master Bruce has been doing this for _decades_. He's been doing this for a lot longer than you've even been alive." Perhaps noticing the slight look of hurt in Dick's eyes at his words, Alfred added, "And that's not a slight on your age, Master Dick. Not at all. You're ridiculously mature for your age, and I sometimes have to remind myself that you're only fourteen. But I need you to realize how very much longer Master Bruce has been at this. How he can still get caught off-guard no matter how well-prepared he might be. How you still need a lot more training before you'll be ready for something like this."

"I know I do," Dick admitted. "I know I'm not even remotely prepared for this, but…sometimes we have to step up to the challenges that life presents us with. I know something bad has happened to Bruce, and I know I can help him. I'm not going to rest until I at least go and take a look at that factory. That's it. Can I say for sure that the Joker won't be there? No, but this is something I have to do for Bruce. Alfred, I have to." Dick made sure he was looking directly into the butler's eyes when he spoke his next words. "No one was there to save my parents, and I'm not going to let the same thing happen to Bruce. I won't."

Alfred didn't say anything, but he was watching Dick closely. His eyes were suddenly going up and down Dick's body so intently that Dick suddenly began to feel slightly self-conscious.

"Well. If you're really intent on going," Alfred said slowly, punctuating every word, "you really don't plan on going looking like that, do you?"

 _Is Alfred really going to support Dick in his crusade?  
_ _What does Alfred have in mind for Dick's wardrobe?  
_ _Will Dick be able to find Batman in time?  
_ _Will there be anyone left to save?_

 _We will find out next time, Batfans!  
_ _So tune in…  
_ _Same fan site…  
_ _Same fan channel._

 _We can only hope Dick isn't too late and that he doesn't run into the Joker himself!_


	4. Chapter 4: Robin

_The last time we saw Batman's future crime-fighting partner, Dick was determined to follow Batman to the Joker's Wild Card Company, desperate to make sure his guardian hadn't met with foul play. Has Dick finally convinced Alfred to let him do so?_

"What?" was all Dick could think of to say. He stood staring at Alfred with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

A small smile slowly curled around Alfred's lips. "Well, Master Dick, the way I see it, I have two options. One, I can forbid you to go, in which case, you'll go anyway and get in way over your head. Or two, I can help you, and support you, and perhaps get both you and Master Bruce out of this."

Dick was still speechless. He tried to say something for several seconds, but he couldn't seem to form any words at all. Finally, he simply settled on, "Alfred…" Then Dick rushed forward, wrapping his arms firmly around the butler's waist.

Hugging Dick back tightly, Alfred gave the boy's shoulders a squeeze. When he pulled away, Alfred gripped Dick's shoulders and said, "And I _am_ going to help you. We have some spare prototype utility belts from way back when Batman was still putting his costume together." Alfred paused, gesturing back at a large grey cabinet on the other side of the desk. "I can get something together for you with some Bat-gadgets to help you. I'll have to get you a radio so we can keep in contact and run through how everything works. You'll be getting a crash course on how to be a crime fighter."

Dick let out a heavy breath of nervousness. He could hardly believe this was all happening and that Alfred was going to help him of all things. This was crazy. Although it was exactly what Dick wanted. It was a weird mix of complete excitement and sheer terror coursing through him.

"Now you haven't answered my question," Alfred said.

"What?" Dick asked again. This was all happening so fast, his head was spinning and he was having a difficult time even trying to keep up with it.

"You don't really plan on going like that, do you?" Alfred asked. He gestured to the clothes Dick was wearing – his grey slacks and bright red sweatshirt. His sweatshirt was one of the first articles of clothing that Dick could remember Bruce buying for him. It was one of Dick's favorites – warm, and soft, and comforting, not to mention that it was in his favorite color as well. This shirt in particular always managed to make Dick think of Bruce, of their various and enjoyable shopping trips together. Dick wrapped his arms around himself, digging his fingers into the comforting fabric.

"Not that there's anything wrong with what you're wearing, of course," Alfred pointed out, picking up on some of Dick's thoughts. "I only meant that it wouldn't do for Bruce Wayne's young ward to burst in to save _Batman_. It might be a bit _too_ telling."

Dick suddenly hung his head, staring down at his normal street clothes. He could feel his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment that he hadn't even thought of this. He had almost been ready to go running out of the Batcave, not even caring who saw him dressed like this when he went to save Batman.

"Oh," was all Dick could say in reply. He blinked up at Alfred. "But…I don't have anything-"

"Don't you?" Alfred cut him off gently. Alfred raised his eyebrows, staring at Dick meaningfully. "It seems to me you brought a few things of your own when you arrived here."

Dick stared at Alfred, still not quite understanding. And then it hit him all at once. Just the thought of it made Dick's heart feel like it had jumped up into his throat, beating wildly. He hadn't ever thought about wearing it again. In fact, he had already made up his mind a long time ago that he would never dig it out of the back of his closest. On his very first night at Wayne Manor, Dick had shoved it way back in there during a particularly long and raw conversation with Bruce, and he honestly didn't care if he ever saw it again.

But now…Dick supposed that Alfred had a point. It really would make the perfect outfit if he did decide to go running after the Joker.

Now that he really started to think about it, however, the idea seemed so insane to Dick. Was that really what he was seriously considering – going after a criminal that he'd had absolutely no experience with at all? The thought alone terrified him, especially when he and Alfred were standing there, discussing the idea like it was a definite possibility.

What experience did Dick have with criminals like this? Absolutely none, except for his very short run-in with the Riddler several months ago. Since then, Dick felt like he had started getting back into shape with his very brief training with Bruce, but was Dick really ready to do something as reckless as this?

But when it came right down to it, Dick didn't feel as if he had any choice whatsoever in the matter. If Bruce really was in trouble, and the police couldn't even find him, then Dick had to do it. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Dick suddenly realized he was breathing heavily at the thought of that costume – of digging it out of the back of his closet and putting it on again. Deep down, Dick knew that he would do absolutely anything at all for Bruce, but was he really willing to do this? Relive the most horrific moment of his life? No matter how much Dick thought about it, however, he kept coming back to the very same answer – anything for Bruce.

Dick swallowed hard, feeling Alfred's eyes on him. Then Dick realized that his eyes were burning with unshed tears. He was absolutely terrified of the memories that costume would bring back to him, and he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that.

"But I can't wear that again," Dick choked out, shaking his head decisively.

Alfred didn't say anything, and he didn't have to. Dick's thoughts kept on moving without any encouragement. Regardless of how Dick himself felt about it, there was something else that kept nagging at him about this recent turn of events.

"Do you think they'd be upset?" Dick asked. He didn't elaborate any further, but Alfred seemed to understand exactly what he meant.

"About you wearing it?" Alfred asked.

"Yes," Dick answered. "Because…it was their thing. _Our_ thing. And I wore it the very last time I saw them and spoke to them. I wore it when...my life changed forever. Doesn't that…make it sort of sacred?"

Alfred pursed his lips together in thought. "Perhaps so," Alfred agreed. "But do I think they'd be upset at the thought of you using it in order to try and save the life of someone who's become so very important to you? No, not at all."

Dick considered this for a very long time. After what seemed like forever, he asked, "Do you think they'd like Bruce?" In a way, Dick had already known the answer to that for quite some time now; he simply wanted someone else's opinion on the matter.

"I do," Alfred replied firmly. "Of course they'd like the man that has taken you in – that has given you a home, and has become a parent to you when they couldn't. I think you and I both know that."

"Yeah, I know," Dick agreed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he found himself smiling slightly. Dick took a deep breath before he asked, "Will you come with me?"

Neither one of them said anything as they took the elevator up from the Batcave, then made their way up the stairs to Dick's room. Dick had hoped they wouldn't meet Aunt Harriet along the way and would have to come up with some sort of lie about what they were doing. Time was already running precariously short, Dick felt, and the quicker he suited up, the faster he could get to Batman's aid.

Alfred stopped just inside the door to Dick's room, closing it behind him as Dick made his way over to his closet.

"I put it in here…it was the night I arrived here," Dick told Alfred, pulling open the door to the closet. "I showed it to Bruce and we talked about it. I told him I was going to put it in here until I decided what to do with it, because I wasn't entirely sure if I even wanted to keep it or not. And then I sort of forgot about it – you know, out of sight, out of mind. I guess it's good now that I still have it. Maybe I knew I was saving it for…something."

Dick was standing in the open doorway of his closet, staring at one of the shelves that came up to about his waist. He thought he could see it in there, the tiniest bit of red cotton and green polyester peeking out from amongst some of his heavier sweaters that he had put away for the summer.

Steeling himself, Dick reached up a shaking hand, beginning to push aside the woolen sweaters. Behind him, he was aware that Alfred had moved across the room and sat on the bed. The butler then didn't seem to move a muscle, didn't seem to make a sound. It was almost like he understood the weightiness, the sacredness of the situation and didn't wish to disturb this process of Dick's in the least.

Finally, Dick's fingers fell upon the cotton and the polyester fabric that he had worn so many times before but now hadn't worn in ages. The outfit that he had spent countless nights in once upon a time when he had been a circus performer with his parents, but now, it was something he hadn't touched in nearly two years. Hadn't worn in almost three. But the feel of the fabric was so very familiar, it was almost like a tidal wave hitting Dick with memory after memory.

He remembered the very first time pulling on those horrible tights and green jumpsuit – so very itchy, tight, and uncomfortable, but necessary for the business that he and his family had been in. A part of him had always hated wearing them, but in other ways, it was a part of one of the best things he had ever done with his parents. Those nights when months and months of training had paid off, when he and his parents had flown through the air and were met with applause and cheers. The wonderful feeling of being a part of something, of being a part of a family that was able to work on something so wonderful, something that pleased so very many people.

Dick almost didn't want to, but he forced his fingers to close around that itchy fabric. He paused for a very long time before he pulled, dislodging the outfit's place from behind a particularly thick and wooly sweater. It came out in his hands, and when it did, he held it for a very long time. Dick simply stared down at it, feeling almost overwhelmed by the sensation of memories and emotions running through him.

The bright red fabric of the bodice was perhaps the part of the costume that affected him the most deeply. Dick had always thought of red as his favorite color, but he was never sure why. Did anyone really need a reason for the things they liked other than it pleased them in some way? But was this it? Did his love of the color red stem from these outfits, from the acrobatic routines he had performed with his parents? Is that where it had come from?

When Dick really thought about it, he knew that the idea for the bright red of the shirt had come from him. His parents never failed to tell him how special he was to them, and they always said that this was one of the ways they could show it to him.

They had wanted their trapeze costumes to evoke the idea of a robin; having been born on the first day of spring, his mother had taken to calling him her 'little robin'. Is that why he had always liked the color red? Because it reminded him of his mother? Of the bird with the red breast had become the inspiration for his nickname?

It suddenly made so much sense to Dick, he wasn't sure why he had never thought about it before. It was another one of those things that now seemed so obvious when he really took the time to think about it. And now here it was, staring him right in the face. This thought made Dick smile the tiniest bit, and at long last, he felt the strength he needed to turn around and face Alfred.

For the briefest moment, Dick thought about telling Alfred all of this. His stream of thought almost even threatened to pour out of him in what he felt might be a never-ending spout of information. In the end, however, Dick fastened his teeth over his bottom lip in an effort to keep them in. He loved Alfred dearly, yes, and he had absolutely no problem sharing such personal things with him. But in this case, Dick almost felt like he owed it to his parents to keep these things to himself – like those were things only for the three of them to know. And Bruce.

"Maybe you're right," Dick said instead. Dick furrowed his brow, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his costume. "I think they might even be happy to know that something we shared together might now be used for something so…pure. They were always big advocates about being selfless. They always stressed to me how important it was to give to your fellow man and to think less about yourself. Isn't that what I'm doing for Bruce? Thinking about him and not myself?"

Alfred had been so quiet, Dick almost began to suspect that the butler hadn't even been listening to him. But then came Alfred's quiet response at long last.

"It is indeed, Master Dick."

"Should I…?" Dick began to ask, but in the end, he really had no idea what he wanted to say. Just simply holding this costume, even thinking about going after Batman, it was almost too much for Dick to comprehend. He was having a difficult time making sense of everything, and every time he tried to speak, words didn't seem to make sense to him anymore. It was just all a mess inside his head.

"Let's take it down to the Batcave first," Alfred suggested, taking the initiative and standing up from the bed. He approached Dick, laying a hand on the boy's shoulders and leading him towards the door. "It certainly wouldn't do for Aunt Harriet to see you walking about Wayne Manor in your old circus outfit. We'd certainly have a lot of explaining to do then."

Despite the weightiness of the situation, Dick snickered. He couldn't even imagine Aunt Harriet's reaction to such a thing. Not for the first time, Dick was glad that Alfred was there to take charge of things and help direct his actions a little bit. Dick felt positively useless, but he only hoped that he could get himself together in time to help Batman.

As Dick followed Alfred down to the Batcave, he could feel himself growing even more nervous with every step through Wayne Manor. By the time they descended in the elevator to the Batcave itself, Dick's legs were shaking like they were full of water. Even his hands were beginning to quake, and he wasn't even sure how he was going to dress himself in this state, let alone go on a rescue mission.

When they got to the cave and stepped out of the elevator, Alfred gestured towards the right. There was a small door that led to what served as the Batcave's bathroom. It was nothing more than the size of a closet with a toilet and sink inside, but it did the job.

"We have a changing screen," Alfred said, gesturing back to the Batcave proper, "but I figured you'd want a little bit of extra privacy while you put that on for the first time."

Smiling up at Alfred, Dick replied, "Thanks, Alfred."

A moment later, Dick had turned on the light in the small bathroom and closed the door behind him. He set his former circus costume down on the sink and stared at it for a very long time, almost like it was a strange animal he had never seen before. He almost couldn't believe that he was doing this, that he was actually going to put this on again for the first time since he had watched his parents fall to their deaths.

Now that the time had come, he was terrified of feeling that fabric against his skin again. Terrified of the imagery and memories it might bring up for him. After all, he had shoved it in the back his closest for a reason. Out of sight, out of mind. Now was he actually going to put it back on again? Never mind looking at it, but the thought of wearing it was almost too much to bear. But he was doing this for Batman. That was what truly mattered here and it was what he had to keep reminding himself of.

Taking a deep breath, Dick carefully separated his tights from the rest of his outfit. They had become entangled with the jumpsuit and bodice portions of his costume during their time stuffed in the back of the closet. He held them up by the waistband, letting the legs themselves fall towards the floor. A part of him shuddered, not from the memories they brought back, but from the thought of stepping into those itchy, uncomfortable things again. But it was for Bruce, so he would wear the most uncomfortable thing imaginable if he had to. He would even wear a straitjacket if necessary.

Dick plopped the tights back on the sink next to the rest of his outfit, then pulled off his sweatshirt. He threw it on the back of the toilet, then stepped out of his loafers. He removed his trousers as well, letting them fall on top of his sweatshirt. Ripping off his socks, he balled them up and let them drop on top of his shoes. Then he picked up those dreaded tights and sighed heavily. He supposed he had put it off long enough.

Holding them by the waistband once again, Dick lowered the tights to the floor and stepped into them. He grimaced at the scratchy feeling on his feet, but he wasted no time in pulling them up.

"Now I know why I stopped wearing these," Dick muttered to himself. He already couldn't wait until the moment when all this would be over and he'd be able to pull these horrid things off once again.

Next, Dick unzipped the back of the green jumpsuit and lowered this to the floor as well. He pulled it up, shoving his arms through the shirt portion of it. Then he reached his arms around his back; one of the good things about being an acrobat once upon a time was being able to easily dress himself when things like zippers were involved.

Dick only loosened a few of the laces around the collar of the bodice. This was a slightly looser-fitting garment that he could easily slip over his head. After he pulled it on, he pulled the laces tight again, then stood and stared at himself in the mirror over the sink for a very long time.

The mirror was tiny, and he could only see his head and shoulders reflected in it. Seeing the combination of the red and green costume on him again was almost off-putting. He hadn't seen himself in this outfit for such a very long time, it was like he was looking at someone else entirely.

A part of Dick was almost nervous now to step outside in it. What would Alfred say to it? Moreover, what would the rest of the world think about it? In the end, Dick supposed it didn't really matter. He would have gone after Batman in a chicken suit if he had to and not think twice about it, so why was this making him so nervous?

As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom and into the Batcave, Dick asked, "Does this look stupid?" He looked down at his outfit, at the bright red bodice and forest green shirt and underwear underneath. "This looks stupid," Dick concluded. He grabbed at the sides of the red shirt, pulling it out from his body as far as it would go, which wasn't much. Dick had grown a lot since he had last worn it, and there actually wasn't as much room in his costume as there used to be. "I can't wear this. I can't go after the Joker wearing…a circus outfit." Dick suddenly felt ridiculous that he thought this would even be appropriate garb at all for the task that lay ahead of him. He covered his face with his hands.

"Er…" Alfred began, but then he struggled to keep in a laugh.

"It is!" Dick accused. "And you're laughing at it!"

"No, Master Dick," Alfred said firmly. He held up his hands in a show of honesty. "That's not why I'm laughing. It's just…have you ever _seen_ what the Joker normally wears? It's a bright purple suit. You met the Riddler personally. Was that green question mark leotard the height of fashion?"

Dick snickered loudly. "Yeah, you're right. On the other hand though, I thought his suit with the silk vest was very sharp."

"Which is a rare occurrence, I might add."

"Okay, so I don't have to worry about being dressed stylishly. But I still can't wear this," Dick muttered, staring down at his stocking-clad feet. "I don't even have shoes. I kind of didn't need those on the trapeze. And don't superheroes need capes? Batman has one. A long flowing cape. And what good is it wearing a costume if I still look just like Dick Grayson? Wasn't that the point? I need some kind of mask," he said, placing his hands on his cheeks like he was thinking about the possibilities.

Alfred had been standing with his fingers pressed against his lips in thought as he scrutinized Dick's outfit. "As I said, I think I can help with some of that," Alfred said, making his way over to the large metal cabinet at the far end of the Batcave. Dick followed along, still not sure what Alfred could possibly have in mind to try and improve his outfit.

A moment later, Alfred had opened the cabinet and was rummaging around inside it. For someone that seemed so organized and kept Wayne Manor spotless, Dick was a bit concerned at the way Alfred was treating whatever was in the cabinet. Alfred was throwing things around, causing them to bang up against the sides of the storage unit. Dick flinched away, not sure if Alfred was going to be able to help him at all.

"Alfred?" Dick asked tentatively. "Are you sure-?"

"Master Bruce had a lot of different ideas before he settled on his current persona of Batman," Alfred explained, cutting him off. He was still digging around inside the cabinet, however, his head almost completely hidden inside the unit. Dick could barely even hear him. "I think, at one point, he played around with a lot of greens and yellows-"

Alfred suddenly stopped, straightening up. "Here," Alfred said, but he didn't turn around yet. He was staring down at something in his hands. "I thought these still might be in here."

A moment later, Alfred finally, at long last, turned around to face Dick. He was holding a pair of deep green boots with a bit of fabric trailing off at the backs; they looked almost like wings. Dick blinked at them, then looked down at his own costume. Even though he had seen his own outfit more than enough times, it surprised him slightly to see that the green in his shirt matched the boots perfectly. It was almost too hard to believe.

"And I think he may have been about the same size as you back then," Alfred said. He stepped forward, bent over, and set the boots down at Dick's feet. "Try them."

Dick swallowed. The fact wasn't lost on him that he was literally going to be stepping into Batman's shoes. Not that Dick could ever possibly _fill_ them; there was only one Batman after all. The thought was daunting to say the least, and Dick's heart began pounding wildly in his chest as he lifted one stocking-clad foot up off the floor of the Batcave.

Dick carefully placed the toes of his right foot inside the deep green boot. He pressed his foot downwards until it came into contact with the sole. He slid his toes forward, wiggling them until his foot slunk deeper into the boot. Then he put his heel down and put most of his weight on that foot.

"They fit perfectly," Dick said, looking up at Alfred in awe. Dick let out a soft breath of laughter. "I'm filling Batman's shoes. That's insane, isn't it?"

"Not insane, Master Dick," Alfred said. "Who else better?"

Dick could feel a lump settle into his throat almost immediately at Alfred's words. Dick almost wanted to thank Alfred for ever imagining such a thing, let alone saying, but he couldn't quite find the words.

A moment later, Alfred's head was buried in the cabinet, and he was once again rummaging around inside it. While this was going on, Dick tried his very best to get his other foot inside the matching green boot, but it was difficult. Dick kept trying to peek around Alfred, attempting to get a glimpse of what was in there. Dick was entirely anxious to see what else Alfred could find for him, and the thought of the possibilities made Dick's heart pound erratically.

This, in effect, caused Dick to begin shaking anew. His hands were trembling by this point and his legs felt like they were full of jelly once more. If he was this nervous and anxious now when he was simply getting dressed, what was he going to be like if he actually met up with the Joker? Once Batman actually saw what Dick had done to himself? Dick tried not to think about that, because he knew it would only make things worse. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

When Alfred emerged from the closet for a second time, he turned to face Dick to reveal a bright yellow cape. Despite his best efforts to calm himself, Dick's heart immediately began pounding again at the sight of this. The cape appeared to be made out of satin, and it kept catching the lights of the Batcave every time Alfred moved it.

"It's beautiful," Dick said breathlessly, taking his very first steps in Bruce's old green boots. He put out his hands to entwine his fingers in the soft fabric of the cape. He loved the way the material felt underneath his skin, so smooth and soft across every inch.

Alfred held the cape by its collar, letting the rest of it hang from his hands. He shook it, attempting to dislodge any wrinkles and errant dust that might have settled on it over the years.

This made Dick smile. It looked almost magical, exactly the sort of cape that a superhero might wear. Dick loved the way it flowed and slunk over itself, almost like was made out of liquid or molten silk.

After he had finished shaking it out, Alfred stepped forward and swung the cape out behind Dick, laying it across the boy's shoulders. Alfred took a moment to fasten the small clasp at the front before setting about neatly folding the sides back over Dick's shoulders.

There was that lump again, once more settling into Dick's throat. Just having that silky, satiny fabric resting on his shoulders, to feel it brushing up against his bare arms made him feel powerful for some bizarre reason. It was almost like he could do anything. Dick was sure it was just a silly childhood memory – that tying a bath towel around his neck and pretending it was a cape could actually make him stronger – but it filled Dick with a thrilling sensation nonetheless. Was this what Bruce felt like every time he donned the Batman cape?

"It goes perfectly with the yellow laces on your shirt," Alfred said, smiling. Then he added, "I think it suits you, Master Dick." Dick didn't miss the note of pride in his voice.

"Don't I still need a mask?" Dick asked, his fingertips once again going up to trail over his face.

"I think there's something in here that should cover that," Alfred said. He put up an index finger and said, "Give me a minute."

Alfred was once more digging around in the cabinet, and Dick was even more nervous now than he had been before. He begun clenching and unclenching his fists together, hoping to release some of the pent up excitement that seemed to be bounding around inside him. He almost felt like a coiled spring about to uncoil, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could contain it.

The more of his outfit that Alfred put together, the closer Dick was to leaving the safety of the Batcave. The closer he was to being out there on his own, going after the Joker and having to rely solely on what he had learned as a child and what Bruce had taught him so far. That very thought terrified him, and he wasn't even sure he could do this. Was he really prepared to take on the Joker by himself? Dick didn't know how he could be when Batman himself might not even be able to handle that much. Dick, however, knew that he had to try.

"Hm," Dick heard Alfred hum thoughtfully. "Well," he said, turning to face Dick once more, "it isn't quite Batman's cowl, but it'll have to do."

Dangling from one of Alfred's lanky fingers was a jet black domino mask. Dick had just learned this term while studying the origins of the Carnival of Venice in school – a narrow mask that just covered the eyes and the bridge of the nose. Alfred was right; it didn't quite have the flair that Batman's cowl did, but Dick didn't think he'd really need all of that. Such an elaborate cowl worked with Batman's costume, because it was made up of simple blues and greys. With the bright, reds, yellows, and greens already present in Dick's outfit, he thought that something simple might really be best.

Taking the mask from Alfred's outstretched finger, Dick thought he could feel sparks of electricity running through his hand. He knew he was just imagining this, but in other ways, he wasn't quite so sure. It was almost like all of this was meant to be, like his costume was coming together so quickly and so easily. Was this really what he was supposed to be doing? Getting suited up to go chasing after criminals just like his guardian?

Dick stretched the mask out, pulling it over the top of his head. He took a moment, positioning it around his eyes before glancing back up at Alfred. At first, Alfred didn't say anything, and this made Dick even more nervous; Dick could only imagine what he really looked like or what people would think of him because of it.

Then again, Dick had to remind himself that this was _Alfred_. This was the man that Dick was coming to see as a grandfather figure. Dick knew that Alfred would never think those things about him. After all, this was the man who was Batman's butler. He saw Bruce dressed in his Batsuit multiple times a day sometimes and had obviously grown accustomed to it. Alfred was used to this sort of thing; he would certainly never think that Dick looked stupid or silly.

Even so, Dick let out a nervous laugh. "Please say something," he pleaded to Alfred. "Tell me that I don't look as ridiculous as I think I do."

"Mm, see for yourself," Alfred said. He stepped behind Dick, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders and guiding him past the cabinet from which he had pulled all these articles of clothing.

On the very far side of the Batcave from the Batpole was a small alcove where a full-length mirror was attached to one wall with a curtain hanging from the ceiling to obscure it from view. This served as a small dressing area for the Batcave.

Dick was too frightened to actually look in the mirror at first. He hung his head and stared down at his booted feet instead.

Alfred was still behind him, his hands lying softly on top of Dick's shoulders. "You won't know unless you look," Alfred whispered in his ear.

Clenching his fists together again in an attempt to steel himself, Dick finally raised his head. He still didn't look in the mirror, however. When he did open his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling, then past the curtain to the atomic pile, and then to the empty parking space where the Batmobile should have been. Anywhere but at the mirror.

"It's nowhere near as scary as what you might be imagining," Alfred said reassuringly, his voice still terribly calm and quiet. Dick thought they might have heard a pin drop in the cave, its sound echoing and reverberating incessantly off the high walls and vaulted ceiling.

Dick took a heavy breath and held it in for a long time before he opened his eyes. Alfred had been right. Dick had been imagining all sorts of ridiculous things. He thought he might look like some stupid little child dressed up on Halloween. Dick had almost, in some deep, dark recess of his mind, been expecting to drop dead in embarrassment at the sight, but he realized that it wasn't anything like that.

Dick was almost amazed at what he saw. He didn't think he looked quite as amazing as Bruce did as Batman, but Dick still felt slightly empowered at what he saw. Was that a little bit egotistical on Dick's part? Perhaps, but Dick didn't think it was wrong to like what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Indeed, Bruce often told him that learning to love himself and learning to accept what he looked like was one of the most important things. So this wasn't being too forward, was it?

There was just one little thing that didn't seem right to him. Dick, however, couldn't quite put his finger on what that something was.

"I think there's something missing though," Dick mused. He turned and glanced up at Alfred over his shoulder. "Don't you?" He looked back in the mirror, staring at his reflection thoughtfully. "But I don't know what it could be."

Alfred frowned at the mirror, but then his expression brightened, almost as if the proverbial lightbulb had gone on over his head. "I think I do," he said, turning back to the cabinet. "Give me a moment."

Dick smiled to himself, glancing back at his reflection. Sometimes it seemed like Alfred had an answer to everything.

"Oh," suddenly came Alfred's surprised voice from inside the cabinet. When he straightened up and turned back to Dick once more, he was holding out a pair of deep green leather gloves in exactly the same hue as his shirt and boots. "I'd forgotten about these," Alfred told him, "but I think they might be suited to your ensemble."

More and more, Dick was getting the exhilarating feeling that this was meant to be. Why else would Alfred happen to have so many different articles of clothing that seemed to go with what Dick already had? Things like this didn't just happen by accident.

Dick took the gloves and wasted no time in pulling them on. When he was finished, he turned back to the mirror one last time. The gloves had done it. They had been exactly what his outfit had been missing. Glancing at his reflection up and down, going over ever last inch of his new getup, Dick didn't think it was in need of anything else or required anymore work.

"We'll get to your utility belt and gadgets in a moment, but what you need now is a superhero name," Alfred pointed out.

Dick let out a soft breath of laughter. On the contrary, this was by far the easiest part for Dick. It was something that had been in the very back of his mind ever since Alfred suggested his old circus outfit for the task that lay ahead of him.

Staring at the bright red bodice of his costume in the mirror, Dick nodded. "Robin."

 _Our little Robin has been born, Batfans!  
_ _Will he be prepared for his first flight to save Batman?  
_ _Is Batman still hanging in there?_

 _For the answers to these and other dangling questions,  
Tune in next time…  
Same fan site...  
Same fan channel._

 _Keep your Batwings crossed for our Dynamic Duo!_


	5. Chapter 5: Misbegotten

**On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin  
** **Chapter 5 - Misbegotten**

 _When last we saw Dick Grayson, he had just transformed into his new persona of Robin for the very first time. Is he ready to go off in search of his guardian? Will he succeed in finding Batman and bringing him home?_

Dick looked down at the spare utility belt that Alfred had fastened around his waist. It was much smaller than Batman's was, but it seemed to suit his ensemble perfectly, and it was black instead of yellow. Dick kept touching each compartment in turn, trying to remember exactly what Alfred told him was in them and what they did.

"I'm never going to remember all of this," Dick said, shaking his head miserably. "I'm going to go for the Batarang and end up pulling out some Bat-capsules instead or something. The Joker would fall over laughing at me."

"The Joker falls over laughing at anything," Alfred pointed out. He approached Dick and said, "If I may, Master Bruce always said that the Batarang and knockout gas were a crime fighter's best friends. Those are just there and there, respectively," he added, pointing to the location of each one in turn, which sat above Robin's right hip.

"Right," Dick said almost absently, placing his hand over the compartments in a protective manner. Dick's mind raced with possibilities, wondering if he really would be using those things in order to save Batman from whatever situation he was currently in.

"And the universal Bat-antidote pill over here," Alfred said, gesturing to yet another compartment, this time above Robin's left hip. "A surefire cure for what ails you should the situation arise."

This made Dick's mind turn to all of the horrible and dire circumstances he might get into himself. Would he really find himself poisoned and needing an antidote? Dick supposed that it was a good thing to have if he needed it, but what would Bruce say about this? What would he think about Dick possibly placing himself in so much danger? It was for a good cause, yes, but Dick knew Bruce still wouldn't want him to do this. Bruce would never forgive himself if something happened to Dick as well.

"What am I doing, Alfred?" Dick suddenly asked in exasperation. "Bruce would be fit to be tied if he knew-"

"And I thought we agreed that in certain circumstances, the rules must be broken," Alfred interjected gently.

"I know, but…" Dick said, the feeling of complete and utter uncertainty seeming to envelope him now that he was so close to being ready. The sense of determination that had been driving his every action for the last hour suddenly fleeting before him and dissolving into nothing. "I've never even used a Batarang in my life! I'm going to look like I'm completely lost in front of the Joker and his gang."

Dick looked up at Alfred helplessly, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "Why are you letting me do this?" Dick asked, trying his very best to hide the quiver in his voice. If he was really going to do this, if he was really going to go try and save Batman, then he couldn't show any fear or uncertainty. A battle he was quickly losing.

"Because I knew you'd never take no for an answer," Alfred replied. "I told you, if I forbid you from going, you'd just go anyway, wouldn't you? As you've said, you're not going to be able to rest until you check out that factory."

"And I won't," Dick agreed. "I just…I don't know. Do _you_ think I'm _ready_? Do you think I'm prepared enough to not get my fool self killed?"

Alfred considered this for quite some time before he nodded solemnly. "I do." He closed the distance between himself and Dick even more, reaching out to place his hands on the young boy's shoulders. "Do _you_ feel ready?" Alfred asked him. "This is very important, so answer honestly. Regardless of what sort of trouble Master Bruce could be in, you need to feel confident. That goes a long way in determining how you're going to come out of his, Master Robin."

The use of his new name made Dick smile. Then out of the corner of his eye, Dick caught the image of his reflection in the mirror. It was still odd to see himself dressed in such a way, but Dick couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was right. There was something so very perfect about what he was wearing, about the way it had all come together. That had to count for something, didn't it?

Dick nodded, staring back into Alfred's eyes. "I do," he said quietly.

"Are you sure?" Alfred asked, and this time, noticeable concern was ebbing at his voice. He tightened his grip on Dick's shoulders. "Are you absolutely sure? And I don't want the answer to that to come from your fear of Master Bruce's fate. I want the answer to come from you," he said firmly, laying a gentle hand in the middle of Dick's chest. "You can't do things in life because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't. You must make decisions that are right for _you_. I do hope you've learned at least that much from Master Bruce during your time here."

Dick nodded, but then he realized that he wasn't going to convince Alfred of anything by simply going through the motions. "I know that and I have. And I want to do this. I was just worried that my training won't be good enough. I know I'm a far cry from Batman. I imagine that will always be the case, but sometimes, I feel like I'm not even in the same league that he is. That I'll never be as amazing as he is at anything."

"Master Dick," Alfred said. He waited until Dick met his eyes again before he continued on. "I've been watching you. No, you may not as skilled as Master Bruce yet, but you're still learning and he is your teacher. It may be a bit hard to be on the same level as your teacher when you've only just begun." He stared down at Dick, giving him a very knowing look.

Dick found himself nodding again, even though he had already come to the conclusion that he had to be a little bit more vocal than that. This was much too serious for him to be wishy-washy about anything.

"I know," Dick said, and he couldn't help the small laugh that escaped from him. "I mean, I know that I can't be that good yet. That's not really what I'm asking. I just…I am going to be going after the Joker."

"A Joker who hasn't learned his fighting skills from Batman," Alfred reminded him. "Nor has he been training in martial arts since he was a young child like you have. That counts for a lot."

Dick opened his mouth to argue with this point, but Alfred talked over him.

"Oh," Alfred continued, "the Joker is skilled in certain ways, as are the rest of Batman's archenemies. Don't get me wrong. They simply choose to apply those skills to not-so-savory activities. They don't choose to try and better themselves with it and that, I think, is where they truly differ from Batman. If they did do good things with their minds, can you imagine how far they might go? Take the Riddler, for instance. He clearly has a brilliant mind, but he wastes it on riddles and puzzles in an attempt to outsmart Batman."

"He could probably work for NASA or something," Dick mused. "Their engineers make a lot of money. But he'd rather waste it on trying to steal, or trying to kidnap me, just to prove a point." Dick shook his head. "I don't understand that."

"Nor do I, Master Dick," Alfred said around a sigh. "Not to mention, do you really think they're in their hideouts, or cells in the Gotham City jail or Arkham, attempting to improve their minds or their physiques?" Alfred asked. He shook his head in answer before he said, "No. Of course not. They're not concerned with self-bettering in any form. Except for gaining more money and more power, which I'm sure to them _is_ improving themselves."

"Little do they know," Dick chimed in, "that money and power are fleeting. That they really aren't all that important in the grand scheme of things, are they?"

Alfred didn't answer, but he tilted his head back slightly. He stared down his nose at Dick, smiling proudly. "Master Bruce," Alfred said then, his voice barely above a whisper, "I think, would be immensely proud and happy to hear you say that."

This earned a huge grin from Dick. One of his goals in life, and one of the things that made him the happiest, was simply earning approval from Bruce in some way. Dick looked up to his guardian so very much, and if Dick could even be a small fraction of the man Bruce was, then Dick thought he would turn out okay. To hear things like Bruce being proud of him made Dick insanely excited. Dick tended to doubt himself sometimes, and things like this gave him confidence to know that maybe he was on the right track after all.

"But no," Alfred agreed to Dick's earlier question. "They really aren't all that important when it comes right down to it. Master Bruce is much more concerned with improving himself and with improving this city for the rest of its citizens. That is a much more worthwhile use of one's time than robbing banks or stealing priceless treasures. And when you think about, all that time that Master Bruce has put into his own training must count for something."

"So even if I'm just learning," Dick said uncertainly, "you think I still might be more skilled than they are because of that?"

"Yes," Alfred said firmly, nodding.

"But I didn't do so well the last time he trained me," Dick said, hanging his head in shame. "I feel like I'd just…forgotten everything all at once. Even though deep down, I knew that wasn't true, I found myself faltering. All the time. That shouldn't happen if I was really all that good, should it?"

"I think you're forgetting something, Master Dick," Alfred told him. "I'm sure this is something that Master Bruce has told you more than once as well. We are all human and we all make mistakes."

"Yeah," Dick admitted. "I do know that and Bruce has told me so."

"You're not always going to be perfect in everything you do," Alfred said. "It's impossible. But Master Dick? Like I said, I've been watching some of your training. It is simply amazing to me how fast you've picked up on things and how _similar_ your fighting style is to Batman himself. There are times when I watch you, and I almost forget who it is I'm looking at. You still have a lot to learn, yes, but I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit for how far you've come."

Dick frowned, considering Alfred's words. "Maybe not, but…you've just told me that we all make mistakes. I'm terrified of making a mistake if I do run into the Joker. I'm terrified that I'm not going to be able to defend myself against him, and I'm just going to make things worse for everyone. Imagine Bruce's reaction then! What if I get caught and then we're both going to be trapped! Bruce will be so mad at me for compounding his troubles. Not only will he still have to save himself, but he'll have to save me too."

Alfred shook his head in disagreement. "If there's something I can safely say, it's that Master Bruce would _never_ be angry for having to save you." Alfred let out a soft gasp of breath and gestured towards the bright red Batphone which sat on top of the desk across the Batcave. "Saving people is what he's dedicated his life to. Doing so never makes him angry or makes him feel bothered in the least. And I daresay that being the most important person in this world to him, that he'd never be furious for having to save you."

This caused Dick to smile once again. "But still…" he said, not quite convinced. "I really don't want to make things more complicated for Bruce. I'm sure he has quite enough to deal with now as it is. I might just be getting in the way."

Alfred raised an eyebrow questioningly. "If you really thought that – if either one of us really thought that – we wouldn't be here right now." He gestured to Dick's outfit in explanation of his words. "I've spent the last hour getting you dressed, because we both think that Master Bruce is in trouble and _needs help_. You and I both know that."

"And I'm just letting my nerves get the better of me," Dick said around a heavy sigh. "I'm just going to check out that factory. The Joker wasn't there anymore when the police were there, and he probably won't be there now. I'm just going to see if I can find any clues that the police might have missed. I probably won't encounter any trouble at all and I'm just wasting time going over everything like this."

"Even if you do run into any trouble," Alfred said, "don't forget you have this." He reached out a hand, laying a few fingers on the buckle of Dick's utility belt. "If you suddenly find yourself surrounded by the Joker and his henchmen, there's absolutely no shame in using the knockout gas to get out of it. It's something that Master Bruce has done more than a few times himself. Don't go in thinking you have to take them all out with your fists."

"You make it sound so easy," Robin said, although in a very short time, he would be very glad that Alfred had planted such an idea in his head.

"And it very well may be," Alfred replied, "or it may be the hardest thing you've ever done."

"No," Robin said, staring down at the utility belt and shaking his head. "The hardest thing I've ever done will always be getting through my parents' deaths. I don't think anything will ever come close to that." Dick paused for a moment before looking up at Alfred and adding, "Except maybe losing Bruce if it comes to that. Which is why I have to do this. No ifs, ands, or buts. Not anymore."

Alfred seemed to take this as a satisfactory answer, nodding his head in response. "Very well. And I've done my very best to make sure you're prepared for the job that lies ahead of you. I only wish I could join you on this mission."

"And we both know why you can't," Dick pointed out. "I can't exactly have Bruce Wayne's butler coming along with me."

"But I'll be here waiting for word," Alfred said as he and Dick made their way to the mouth of the cave. "You have your Bat-homing transmitter. If you find yourself in trouble, all you have to do is turn it on, and I'll have the police on their way in no time. And I've put a few dimes in your belt as well in the event that you can find a payphone and need to call me."

Robin nodded before turning around to face Alfred one last time. He threw his arms around the butler's waist, hugging him tightly. Alfred hugged him back just as tightly, and for a very brief moment, Dick wondered if he would ever feel Bruce hugging him again in such a way.

When Dick pulled away, he looked up into Alfred's eyes and said, "I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I can."

* * *

In the end, Robin was very glad he had a good working knowledge of Gotham City's public transportation system. Robin did earn a few stares from some patrons on the subway and later on the bus, but at least nobody caused a ruckus over it. As Alfred had already reminded him, Gotham City was probably one of the more accepting places for people in wacky costumes.

When Robin arrived at the Joker's Wild Card Company, it immediately struck him to run around to the back of the building. After all, Bruce had already mentioned the element of surprise to him a few times and how important it was when dealing with criminals. Of course he'd go around to the back of the building when entering.

Indeed, it seemed as if his instincts had proven correct. The Batmobile was apparently still where Batman had left it, and where the police had found it when they had done their sweep of the area. Robin immediately made his way over to it, deciding that it would be the best place to start his search for clues.

Unfortunately, this proved rather fruitless. Nothing about the car itself seemed amiss, and it didn't look as if anything had been disturbed since Batman had left it all those hours ago.

Robin almost couldn't believe it had now been an entire day since he had last seen Bruce. Almost an entire day without his mentor and the man who had now become like a father to him. A day really wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but somehow, it seemed like an eternity. Robin only hoped that Bruce was still here or that he'd be able to find something useful that would aid him in his search.

Promptly turning away from the Batmobile, Robin took a moment to take in the factory, making note of the possible points of entry. But then he saw it almost immediately – a long rope leading up to an open window on the third floor. This had to be the Batrope and the way Batman himself had entered the building.

Robin briefly wondered if the police had also entered the building the same way, but he decided they probably hadn't. Just the idea of Police Chief O'Hara climbing up a rope on the outside of the building was enough to send Robin into a fit of laughs.

Of course that wasn't something that the police did, but was something that superheroes did. Robin had never climbed up a rope on the outside of a building before, but he had done similar things when he had been in the circus. Climbing up ropes to reach different points on the trapeze had been part of a normal day's work for him, so this wasn't completely outside his skill set. Plus, Robin decided that following Batman's footsteps would be the best way to go; there was no telling what clues he might miss if he decided to take a different path than Batman had.

Robin slowly approached the building, turning his head back and forth as he went and keeping an eye out for any possible criminals that might turn up. The walk across the parking lot proved uneventful and he reached the building without interruption. When Robin reached the rope, he quickly grasped it in his hands, but then he paused and looked up at the climb ahead of him.

Being this close to the building, the third floor seemed a lot farther away than it had when he had been standing at the Batmobile. Robin wasn't scared of heights of course; heights had been a part of his everyday life when he had been in the circus. However, there was one very big different between this and his performances on the trapeze – there was absolutely no net under him to catch him if he fell now.

But he knew he could do this. He had to do this for Batman's sake. And in turn, for the sake of the whole of Gotham City and its inhabitants.

Robin tugged on the rope several times to ensure that it was still secure. Then he very carefully hoisted himself up on it, lifted his feet off of the ground, planted them on the building, and began to climb. In the end, Robin decided that it wasn't too terribly difficult climbing a rope on the outside of a building. All he had to do was keep his hands tightly on the rope, his feet firmly on the building, and keep his eyes on the target.

As Robin approached the wide open window on the third floor, he began to hear voices. He slowed his ascent and listened, hoping to hear Batman's voice, but it was not meant to be. Next, Dick thought the police might even still be inside, but no.

"You can't hang on forever, Batman!" someone said, and Dick immediately recognized this voice as the Joker's. "You have to let go sometime!"

Dick had heard him on the news a few times over the years to be able to pick it out. Not to mention, only one man on the face of the earth had a maniacal laugh like his, which drifted out to Dick following the comment.

However, the thing that Dick had really been interested in was a particular word the Joker had used – he was talking to Batman! That meant Batman was still alive and inside somewhere! Batman was just on the other side of this wall, and Robin might be seeing him very soon! Closing his eyes, Robin contained the urge to begin crying; it certainly wouldn't do to enter this building with the Joker with tears in his eyes!

But judging from the rest of the Joker's words, Batman was in very dire straits. It sounded like he might be hanging on to something for dear life while the Joker was goading him into letting go. What could possibly be awaiting Batman if he fell? A long drop? Something else deadly waiting beneath him?

"I'm surprised you've lasted this long!" the Joker said around another crazy laugh. "How much longer do you think you can last, Caped Crusader? Surely you won't make it until sundown. I can imagine how very numb your arms and hands are. How very little you can feel with them. You're probably simply hanging on just from muscle memory alone."

Dick's heart had begun thudding impossibly hard in his chest. He was suddenly very happy he was wearing gloves, because sweat had begun to break out on his forehead; he could only imagine the trouble he'd have hanging onto the rope with sweaty palms. Dick swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat and forced himself to continue climbing. He'd had just about enough of the Joker's antics. Dick had come to put a stop to this and that was what he was going to do.

Ascending the last few feet to the window, Dick hoisted himself up onto the sill. Straightening up, Dick noticed that the afternoon sun at his back cast a perfect shadow of him on the far side of the room. Without even knowing why, Dick reached down to grab at the sides of his cape. Lifting his arms up towards his head, Dick spread out his cape, which made his shadow almost look like a bird in flight on the wall.

This drew the attention of the Joker and his sidekicks, who immediately turned around to look at him. No one said anything for a very long time until the Joker burst out into a fit of hysterical laughter. The Joker was snickering so hard, he grabbed at his middle, and Dick thought he could see tears pouring down the sides of the criminal's pasty white face. Alfred had been right; it seemed as if the Joker nearly fell over in laughter at anything.

When the Joker managed to contain himself, he straightened up and asked, "Pray tell, what do we have here?"

"Robin," Dick said, trying to keep his voice from quivering in the least.

This brought on another bout of laughter from the Joker and his cohorts joined in this time.

"I came for Batman," Robin said, trying his best to keep his voice firm and steady.

"Wait, wait!" one of the Joker's three minions cried. "Are you some sort of sidekick or something?"

Robin briefly wondered if that was what he should call himself. He wasn't sure what Batman would think of such a thing, but when it came right down to it, Dick decided that there really wasn't any other word for it. All things considered, he was doing exactly what a superhero's sidekick would do, wasn't he? He was coming to rescue Batman, so yes, Dick supposed that that was exactly what he was.

"Yes," Robin replied firmly. "I'm Batman's sidekick."

This earned another cackle from the Joker. "Funny," he said, "that you've only just shown up now when Batman is an inch away from death. I'm sure he could have used you, oh, about a day ago when he got into this mess."

Robin tried to not let the Joker's words get to him. He wasn't about to believe that Batman could be dying at this very moment, nor was he going to let it affect what he came here to do. He was on a mission, and he was going to complete it. And he was going to see Bruce again.

"I don't know," one of the Joker's minions said, stepping forward. He took a moment to look Robin up and down before he added, "You're rather puny, you know. I'm not sure you can take one of us, let alone all four of us."

"I was trained by Batman," Robin said defiantly.

"Batman," the Joker said, "who did so well against us, he's been in a death trap for the last twenty-four hours." After a snigger, he added, "And you think you can do any better?"

Truth be told, Robin really wasn't sure of anything. He had come into this with the assumption that the Joker and his gang wouldn't even be here at all. As he had told Alfred, Dick had only come here in order to find clues. He wasn't even sure that Batman would still be here at all, let alone an entire criminal gang. Besides, the police had already been here. Robin briefly wondered why they apparently hadn't found anything when Robin himself had so easily stumbled right into the thick of things.

Robin debated what to do. He could simply run down to the Batmobile and call Commissioner Gordon. Dick could let the police handle this and come and save Batman. However, Robin wasn't even sure that Batman had that much time. The Joker had said more than once that Batman was within an inch of his life. In the time it took the police to arrive, the worst might already happen, and Robin would never forgive himself. Not to mention, Robin didn't want to think about what the Joker would do if he just turned and ran away.

"That's why I'm here," Robin said, but he was anything but confident.

There was absolutely no way Robin was going to throw himself into a fight with these four criminals. All it would take was one of them coming up behind him and grabbing him, and then Robin might just be in the same situation as Batman. Robin had come here to save him, not to take unnecessary risks.

Robin's hands went his utility belt, trying to find what he wanted without attracting undue attention. He didn't want to look down at what he was doing, so he tried his best to remember the compartment that Alfred had pointed out to him. The one that Alfred had told him not to be ashamed to use. Hoping against hope that he was selecting the correct compartment, Robin pulled it open, withdrawing a small white capsule from inside.

"Why don't you get down here and fight instead of rummaging around in your utility belt?" one of the Joker's henchmen yelled at him. He immediately rushed towards Robin, reaching his hands out in front of him.

Robin realized that the man intended to knock him out of the window, so he knew that that meant now was the time to act. He gripped the capsule tightly in his right hand, lifted it above his head, and threw into the middle of the room.

Robin waited with bated breath as the capsule sailed across the room, hoping that he had picked the correct one after all. It landed and tinkled across the floor, and at first, it didn't seem to do anything. Robin bit at his bottom lip as the Joker's henchman grew closer to him. Robin had very little time left to react, and he was terrified he was going to go sailing from the third floor window at any moment. Firmly grabbing the sides of the window, Robin fastened his teeth over his bottom lip and braced himself for impact.

Just then, the small capsule that he had thrown suddenly seemed to explode to life. It began emitting a thick blue smoke, but at first, Robin didn't think it would be nearly enough to aid him. Before he knew it, however, it seemed to engulf the room, and the Joker and his men began to cough and choke on it.

The criminal that had been running towards him suddenly thrust his hands into Robin's chest. However, the knockout gas seemed to have already taken effect, because the shove was nowhere near as firm as he had been expecting. Robin clung onto the sides of the window as the henchman began stumbling backwards.

Robin waited in the window until the criminals had started falling to the floor. For a very brief moment, the Joker's eyes focused on Robin, and it looked like the criminal had been about to say something. Just then, however, the Joker's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed against the floor, alongside his cohorts.

Robin waited for a brief moment until the smoke had begun to clear from the room slightly. It wouldn't do for Robin to knock himself out as well and end up lying on the floor with the Joker and his gang.

Robin leaped down from the window, landing lightly on the floor. He began looking wildly about the room, searching for any sign of Batman, or any sort of clue that might help him determine Batman's whereabouts.

"BATMAN!" Robin cried, listening desperately for a response.

He didn't hear anything, but Batman couldn't be that far away, could he? The Joker had just been talking to him somehow, perhaps through some kind of radio or speaker. Robin only hoped that it wasn't some sort of long-range speaker, and that Batman actually was in this building.

"BATMAN!" Robin yelled again.

When he still didn't get any sort of response, he decided to begin his search methodically; he wouldn't make much progress by simply standing here and screaming like a loon, after all. Robin glanced at the Joker's gang, wondering exactly how long they would stay out, but he decided not to concern himself with that at the moment.

Robin quickly looked about the room and noticed a door just ahead of him and to his right. Deciding he would try that room first, he made his way over to it. As soon as he opened the door, Dick nearly lost his footing, stumbling forward. At first, he wasn't sure why. His arms swung out in front of him to catch his balance, and then he quickly scrambled to grab onto the doorframe to steady himself further. It was then that he noticed that there was no floor beyond the door. Dick had nearly stepped off the ledge to what looked to be a pretty steep fall. It wasn't the first time he was grateful for his quick reflexes.

"Holy close call," Dick whispered, trying to calm his rapid breathing.

Once Dick gained his balance and was safely on solid ground again, he looked into the drop before him. The bottom of the room was probably at ground level, which would have been a three story fall. This could have ended very badly indeed – Robin had come all this way to save Batman, only to fall to his death through his own sheer stupidity.

Bruce would have probably used this as a teaching moment, taking the time to explain to Dick that he needed to be more aware of his surroundings. It was careless to walk into a room without determining what lay beyond first.

Deciding to do just that, Dick stared down into the pit that lay before him. His eyes were just adjusting to the darkness of the room, but the floor at the very bottom didn't appear entirely solid. It looked to be filled with some sort of liquid which had a thin layer of what appeared to be steam hovering over it. Dick wasn't sure what it was, but he was fairly certain that it wasn't as innocuous as it seemed. In the end, he was very glad that he hadn't tumbled down there to find out firsthand.

Then Dick began to take in the rest of the room, and that was when he noticed Batman. Batman was hanging from what appeared to be a ladder rung on the very far side of the room. He was facing Dick, but his eyes were closed and his face expressionless. Dick hadn't noticed him at first, because Batman wasn't moving, wasn't even flinching, and if Dick didn't know better, he might even have thought that the Caped Crusader was dead. Batman's gloved hands were wrapped tightly around the bar, holding on for dear life. Batman's body was perfectly straight and still, his booted toes coming to a perfect point, and Dick thought he looked to be in some sort of trance.

"Batman," Dick said quietly, almost afraid to say it too loudly and break his guardian's concentration.

At first, Batman still didn't move a muscle. Dick wasn't entirely sure that Batman had even heard him, but then there was a small response from his guardian. Little by little, Batman cracked his eyes open, doing it ever so slightly at a time. At first, Batman's eyes appeared completely unfocused, as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep and didn't know where he was. When his eyes finally settled on Dick, Batman stared at him for the longest time.

"Di…" Bruce began to say Dick's name, but then he stopped. He quickly pressed his lips together and closed his eyes as if he had nearly forgotten who he was at the moment. He was Batman right now. He was not Bruce Wayne, and there was absolutely no reason for him to know who this young man in the mask was.

"It's Robin," Dick said, again trying to keep his voice from shaking. This was a new name for him after all. He wasn't all that used to using it, and it still felt a little strange on his lips. At the same time, however, he liked it; he almost thought that this was a name he could get used to using.

Not that Dick would probably ever use it again. This was a one-time thing, a special occasion for when he knew that Batman had been in trouble. Bruce would never let him become a vigilante. In fact, Dick would be lucky if Bruce didn't want to kill him after this for taking such a risk, even if it was to save Bruce's life.

Dick could see Bruce's eyes momentarily narrow in recognition behind his mask. Batman looked like he desperately wanted to say something more, but he was having trouble forming the words. Dick thought he knew what Bruce was thinking, but it didn't matter just then anyway; they had much more pressing matters to attend to than going through how Dick had gotten into the Joker's hideout dressed up like a circus performer.

"What happened?" Dick asked, desperately trying to get his guardian's mind back to the task at hand. Dick looked up and around the room, trying to figure just what was going on here.

"It's hydrochloric acid," Batman said, glancing down into the pit below them.

Making a disgusted face, Dick looked out over the ledge again – at the steaming liquid that waited there like an alligator waiting to close its mouth. Dick was glad now more than ever that he had been able to grab ahold of the doorframe and balance himself before it had been too late. Both he and Batman would have been doomed if that had happened.

"The Joker shoved me in here and…the floor started to give way," Batman explained. "Luckily, I was able to grab onto one of these rungs just in time. I tried to find a way out, but I don't have my utility belt. I couldn't even tie myself onto the rung for extra support. I've been hanging here for…I don't even know how long now."

His guardian's eyes looked confused behind his mask, and Dick thought that it had probably been much longer than even Batman thought. Dick decided not to mention exactly how long his guardian had even been missing.

"My arms started to go numb, and I had to force myself to go into a trance to hold on," Batman said. "Even now," Batman said, looking up at the bar above him, "I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

"It's okay," Dick said. "I'm going to get you out of this. That's why I came." He took a moment to glance around the room again, trying to take it all in.

"But Dick…" Batman began before trailing off. Batman's slip of the tongue was a glaring reminder of how very weak he must have been; after all, Batman was the one always reminding Dick that when he was in costume, his real name was not to be used.

"Shhh," Dick hushed him unnecessarily, as Batman wasn't trying to say anything more anyway. Perhaps he had decided to try and save whatever remained of his strength.

Just then, a powerful sense of déjà vu swept over Dick. Suddenly, he was reminded of when Batman had saved him from the Riddler not so very long ago. Dick remembered laying on that table under the stamping device at the metal works for hours, certain that he was never going to get out of there. Then Batman had burst in and saved him, all the while assuring Dick that he wasn't going to let him die. Now it was Dick's turn to return the favor.

"I've got this," Dick said cheekily, grinning a bit. Not that Dick was one to toot his own horn or to be prideful, but as he took in more of the room, he thought he could already see a way out. All it would require was the Batarang Alfred supplied him with, and one last ounce of strength on Batman's part.

"Where are the Joker and his minions?" Batman asked, sounding concerned.

"Don't worry about it," Dick said. He was currently staring up at what appeared to be another ladder rung about three above the doorframe. "I took care of them."

"You?" came Batman's voice, filled with disbelief.

"What?" Dick asked, looking back at his guardian. "You have taught me a little bit. I'm not completely helpless, you know."

"I didn't say that," Batman argued immediately. "I just meant…"

"We'll talk about it later," Dick interrupted. He wasn't sure how much energy Batman had left, and the man needed to save every last bit he had for the task at hand. Dick would regale him with the tale of how he took out the Joker and his henchmen later – with a tiny little capsule of knockout gas of all things.

"I brought the spare Batarang," Dick said, taking it out of his belt and wrapping the rope around the knuckles of one hand.

"Whatever you're thinking about doing," Batman said sternly, seeming to read his thoughts, "stop right there. You'll get yourself killed."

"There isn't enough room to stand back to get the Batarang up there," Dick mused, gesturing up to the ladder rung above the door. "The rung's too close to the wall anyway. I'd never get the Batarang through that small gap, and that really wouldn't work anyway."

Dick hadn't meant to outright ignore Batman and his protests, but Dick was going to do this whether his guardian supported him or not. Bruce had done enough for him, and it was time for Dick to pay him back. Moreover, Dick wasn't about to stand there and slowly watch the man who had become his father lose his grip on the bar above him. Dick couldn't imagine what that would be like – watching Bruce fall into the vat below and slowly be burned and dissolved to death. He wasn't going to do that. He wouldn't. In fact, Dick would die to prevent it.

"I could probably climb up there though," Dick said next, glancing around at the doorframe and every available surface he might have to use in his ascent.

"Over my dead body," Batman said loudly. When Dick still didn't reply, Batman said, "Dick, look at me."

Dick hesitated for a long time, pretending to still be taking in the room. When it came right down to it however, he couldn't ignore it when Bruce ordered him to do something so simple. Slowly, Dick finally turned, staring his guardian in the eye defiantly.

"I'm not going to let you do this," Batman said firmly.

Dick's breathing grew heavy, his chest heaving in and out with every breath. He hated disobeying Bruce, and he hated it when he did anything at all to upset his guardian. It made Dick feel awful, and he really wanted nothing more than to follow Bruce's orders to the tee. However, this was one of those times when Dick knew that he had a right to be defiant. Batman had told him more than once that sometimes, if the circumstances were extreme enough, then certain exceptions could be made to the rules. Dick was positive that this was one of those times.

Clenching the Batarang tightly in one hand and the rope in the other in order to steel himself, Dick tersely replied, "I don't see where you have much choice in the matter, Batman. I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

Batman didn't reply right away, but Dick could see his mouth pulling down into a frown. Batman's eyes narrowed as he said, "I said no. That's an order."

"And I choose to disobey you," Dick said. Without another word, he turned to look at up the ladder rung above the door once more, letting Bruce know that this conversation was over. "You can help me," Dick said quietly, "or you can ignore me, but I'm saving your life regardless."

A long and awkward silence fell into the room. Dick could feel Bruce staring daggers at his back, but Dick ignored it. He simply waited for the moment that he knew was coming – the moment when Bruce would once more realize that he couldn't hold on for much longer. Dick only hoped that Bruce would let go of his pride and overprotectiveness before he let go of the piece of metal above him.

 _Will Batman give in and let Robin help him?  
_ _Will Robin's plan work?  
_ _Will the Joker and his gang be out long enough for them to succeed?  
_ _What will our heroes do if the Joker comes to?_

 _For the answers to these and other horrible questions,  
_ _Tune in next time…  
_ _Same fan site…  
_ _Same fan channel._

 _Keep a firm grip on your batwings until then!_


	6. Chapter 6: Never Forgotten

**On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin  
** Chapter 6 – Never Forgotten

 _The last time we saw our Dynamic Duo, Robin had just stumbled upon Batman precariously hanging on for dear life. Will Robin be able to save him? What will Bruce think about his young ward donning a superhero mask and cape?_

When Batman still hadn't said anything, it suddenly struck Dick exactly how he could change his guardian's mind.

"Batman," Dick said slowly. When he was sure he had Batman's full attention, he continued, "I watched my parents fall to their deaths, and there wasn't a single thing I could do to stop it. Please don't make me watch the same thing happen to you."

At first, it appeared as if Batman was going to say something, but then he seemingly changed his mind. He sighed in defeat and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he said, "All right." His voice was barely above a whisper, but Robin had no difficulty hearing him. "If you're determined to do this…at least tell me what it is you're doing before you get yourself killed."

"If I can get up to that rung," Dick said, pointing to the one above the door, "I can tie the end of the rope to it, then I can throw the Batarang to you. Do you think you could catch it?"

Batman considered this for several moments before he replied, "I guess I'll have to, won't I?"

Robin let out a small sigh, staring up at the rung above his head again. "If only they were farther away from the wall, it would make this so much easier."

Batman hummed grimly in agreement, but then he asked, "When has anything we've done ever been easy?"

The very corners of Robin's mouth curled up into a smile before he said, "Never." After a moment of silence, however, he added, "Except for when I became your son. That was the easiest thing I've ever done."

"And I," Batman whispered.

Dick took a deep, calming breath at this, letting it out slowly. As much as he wished they could do something as easy and comforting as talking about their relationship, he knew they had much more pressing matters to attend to.

Looking back up at the ladder rung above the door, Dick said, "But I'm not sure what would be easier for you." He paused, looking back at Batman. "You could either swing back across, or try and tie the rope to the ladder rung and climb across."

Batman considered this, glancing down at the very bottom of the room for a moment. "I'm not sure I would trust myself to be able to hold onto the rope through the downward momentum I'd have after letting go. That scares me."

"You could tie the rope around your waist," Dick offered.

"Still," Batman said, shaking his head in disagreement, "if I didn't tie it tightly enough, it would only be my hands between making it across or plummeting down. I think I'd feel safer climber across and more or less horizontal rope."

"Do you have the strength for _that_?" Robin asked uncertainly, one of his eyebrows going up.

"I don't know, but I can at least try and get my legs up around the rope as well," Batman said. "I'm not entirely sure if I'll have the strength for that either, but I'd feel more secure with that than swinging."

Robin nodded. "Then that's what we'll do."

Batman swallowed visibly before he asked, "Just how do you plan on getting up there though?" He tilted his head up toward the ladder rung that seemed to be so very far away from Dick. "There's nothing to hold on to."

"I was an acrobat, Br-" Dick replied, barely catching himself before he said his guardian's real name. As far as he knew, the Joker and his gang were still passed out, but it was still important to be cautious; the very last thing they needed right then was a repeat situation of one of Batman's enemies overhearing such a secret.

Things between Dick and Bruce flowed so smoothly at times, it was difficult to remember the proper terms to use. Just then, it had almost felt like he and Bruce had been doing this together for so much longer. It felt like this wasn't just their second time getting out of such a scrape together. It felt almost comfortable and routine. Dick supposed it was simply due to how well they now knew each other. Nothing more.

"Batman," Dick corrected himself, feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment, although Batman had already made the same mistake. "The door's heavy. I think it'll support my weight without moving too much. I can pull it closed as much as possible-"

"Without knocking yourself over the ledge," Batman put in.

"I can climb up between it and doorjamb," Dick explained. "I can use the door handle for a foothold to boost myself up. It'll be a snap," he said, looking at Batman confidently and smiling.

Batman, however, didn't look so convinced. "If you can't hold on or you slip for a moment-"

"Batman," Dick said firmly, remembering the words Batman had told him not so very long ago. "I can do this. Please trust me. I'm not going to let you die."

Batman stared at him long a hard. He finally said, "I do trust you. You know that. I'd just never forgive myself if something happened to you." Batman's eyes darted down to the pool of acid below them. "Don't make _me_ watch that."

"You won't have to," Dick said confidently, his voice thick with emotion. Batman wouldn't be able to handle seeing Dick fall into that acid any more than Dick would have been able to. And Dick was determined to not let that happen. "Batman, I know what I'm capable of. I may not have been so sure about facing the Joker of all people, but this is on par with acrobatics. You didn't see a lot of the things I did in the circus. Climbing to the top of the door is _nothing_."

"But the things you did in the circus," Batman disagreed, "weren't done over a vat of acid and you had a safety net under you. You told me that your parents would never let you fly without a net. The stakes now are a little bit higher if you fall."

"I won't fall," Dick said. "You'd never let me fall."

At first, Batman opened his mouth to reply. He had been about to say that he'd never _willingly_ let Dick fall, but there was little he could do from the position he was in. Then it hit Batman, and he snapped his mouth closed. Dick hadn't meant it in that way. Dick had told him once that as long as he knew he had Bruce, he could do anything. Dick didn't necessarily need Bruce there; as long as he knew that Bruce was at home waiting for him, it made him feel stronger than he ever thought possible. This was one of those times when Dick simply felt more confident in himself because of Bruce's support. Maybe the fact that Bruce was there this time would make that certainty go even further this time.

Closing his eyes, Batman nodded slowly. He took a deep breath before letting it out. When he opened his eyes, he said, "All right. I'll talk you through this. Just don't throw yourself over the ledge doing something stupid like reaching for the door," Batman teased.

"Your confidence in me is astounding," Dick retorted.

The door was standing wide open at a ninety degree angle to the doorframe, hanging out over the pool of acid. Dick carefully wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the small ledge that the doorjamb created. Then he inched forward until his toes were hanging over the ledge. Holding onto the doorframe for dear life, he leaned forward, reaching his right hand out for the door handle.

At first, it didn't seem like his fingers were ever going to extend enough to reach the shiny silver of the doorknob. Dick tipped his feet over the ledge the ledge even more, hanging on precariously to only the small piece of wood that lined the door.

Batman flinched, almost certain for a moment that Dick was going to start falling into the pool below. It seemed almost impossible that Dick was still able to keep his grip on the doorframe given the unbearable angle that his body was at. One false move, and the boy's hand could so easily slip. But Dick didn't seem to flinch or notice.

Dick stretched his body out even more, his fingers barely brushing the door handle. Dick gritted his teeth, his eyes never moving away from their focus on his target.

Batman wanted to offer some words of encouragement, but he didn't dare for fear of breaking Dick's careful concentration. Batman also felt mesmerized in a way, watching Dick's every movement. Batman felt in awe of what the boy was doing – still holding fast to the doorjamb when it seemed like he should have lost his grip on it a long time ago.

Then something occurred to Batman. He almost couldn't believe that he actually had so little faith in Dick's abilities. Dick was still a child and needed to be guided, yes, but if said he was more than capable of doing something, then shouldn't Bruce give him the benefit of the doubt?

Dick was a fine young man who kept his feet firmly planted on the floor despite everything he had been through in his life. He was never a problem the way some teenagers were, and he never got into trouble even though he probably had more of a reason to than anyone. Wasn't that enough of a reason to believe that Bruce, and Dick's parents before him, did a good job up until this point? In a way, Bruce knew that Dick was mature beyond his years, and sometimes that involved knowing where one's own limits were. Bruce knew that Dick wouldn't needlessly put himself in danger, especially not when Bruce himself would be there to witness it.

To be fair, Bruce knew that Dick could also be a little headstrong sometimes. Once he got an idea in his head, it could be hard to talk him out of it or to convince him otherwise, especially when it came to Bruce. But when it came right down to it, Dick had his head on straight – a lot straighter than Bruce himself had had his on at that age at any rate. Shouldn't that count for something?

Dick continued to lean out over the ledge even more, stretching his fingers out impossibly far. At long last, his fingertips just barely brushed against the door handle.

"Don't push it farther away by accident," Batman said as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Dick's intense concentration.

Dick nodded slightly once, still leaning out over the pool of acid below. Then Dick paused in his efforts, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. He made one last reach for the handle of the door, and this time, the tips of his fingers managed to curl around the smooth metal surface. Little by little, he closed his hand into a fist, inching the door back over towards him. Once it was close enough, Dick completely wrapped his fingers around the door handle.

"Careful now," Batman said. "Don't get overconfident."

Dick didn't reply, because of his focus and energy were now directed at trying to pull himself back over solid ground. He used the door handle to hold some of his body weight, desperately trying not to think about what would happen if the handle broke off in his hand. Dick slowly bent his left arm, inching the rest of his body back towards the doorframe.

When he thought he was close enough, Dick gave one last, sharp yank against the doorjamb. The momentum propelled him back until his center of gravity was mercifully back over the floor. The door came with him, until Dick was standing upright on the floor. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, trying to calm himself and his thundering heart.

"Good job," Batman said whispered. He knew that they still had a long way to go, but he thought that a little praise might be in order.

Dick smiled, his breath still coming hard and fast, his chest and shoulders heaving with each breath in and out. He took a moment to look up at the area above the door again, planning out the path he would take to get up there.

When his breath had significantly slowed and his heart no longer felt like it would beat out of his chest, Dick pulled the door closed even farther. He left it open only about two feet, bracing himself against it. With a sharp intake of breath, he gripped the edge of the door in one hand and the doorjamb in the other. He slowly pulled himself up, placing his feet against the door and wall respectively. When he had pulled himself up high enough, he hoisted his left foot up onto the door handle. Next, he reached his arms above him, bracing his hands around the top of the door and lifting himself up into a standing position.

Batman found himself flinching again, almost certain that the door might go flying back against the opposite wall and flinging Dick off into the vat of acid below like an insect. The door, however, didn't move an inch. Dick was carefully climbing up, each of his movements tiny and minute, cautious not to apply too much force to the door.

Perhaps being an acrobat did pay off. Batman thought about all the ropes and wires Dick had had to hang from and how wisely he had to balance his body weight to do so. Dick's small frame certainly didn't hurt matters either. At fourteen years of age, Dick had already hit puberty, and he had grown a lot in the time that Bruce had known him. But Dick still seemed so compact and able to balance himself so very elegantly sometimes. It was something Bruce had trained himself for so long to be able to attain, but Dick seemed to do it so effortlessly, almost like he was barely even thinking about it. Bruce was in awe of him, but he supposed that it came with the territory of being in the circus for so many years.

Then Dick turned his attention to the doorjamb. He reached out for it with one hand before he grabbed it and pulled. This swung the door a little bit closer to the frame until the ladder rung above it was just about in arm's reach. Dick glanced down, checking his foothold on the door handle. Bracing his left hand against the top of the door, Dick reached up for the ladder rung. He easily wrapped his fingers around it and gave it a tug, checking to make sure that it wouldn't give out under the weight.

Still holding onto the door, Dick now used his right hand to retrieve the Batarang from where he had slipped it into his belt. It suddenly struck Dick how very strange this all was. He was actually here, in a death trap with Batman, using the Batarang to try and free the Caped Crusader. It was insane to think about, considering that he hadn't even known who Batman was just a few short months ago. When had his life taken this impossibly crazy turn?

Dick threaded the end of the rope opposite the Batarang around the ladder rung. He tied it into knots several times, knowing it wouldn't be prudent for the rope to come undone after all of this hard work.

Next, Dick turned to look at Batman. Dick gripped the Batarang in an attempt to aim it at Batman, but his guardian stopped him.

"Get down before you throw that thing," Batman quickly said. "You'll have much more balance and control with your feet firmly planted on the floor."

"Oh," Dick replied quietly. He actually felt a bit silly that he hadn't thought of that first. He glanced down at the floor, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment.

This was another one of those times when Dick was reminded of how very much he had to learn and how much he needed Bruce to help him. A lot of the time, Dick liked to think that he was responsible and independent, but then he would often be prone to silly and careless things. Just like now.

"Right," Dick whispered, making a face. "Sorry."

"One can't become a capable superhero overnight," Batman replied.

This made Dick's heart speed up. Was Batman really implying that there just may be more adventures like this for Dick in the future? That was almost the way Batman had made it sound – like he had so much more progress to make in this path. Dick swallowed hard at the thought.

But then Dick reminded himself of what was currently at stake. Batman had already been hanging from his arms for who knew how long, and Dick wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on. This wasn't any time to be thinking about what Dick may or may not be doing in the future. There would be an opportunity to think about that once he got Batman out of this ridiculous situation.

Dick replaced the Batarang in his belt. Then he threaded his fingers together and braced them around the top of the door. Dick slowly bent his knees, lowering himself closer and closer to the floor – and to the pit of acid below. Dick took one foot off the doorknob and then the other, allowing himself to hang from his grip on the top of the door. He took a moment to calm himself and catch his breath before proceeding.

"Careful," Batman warned, seeing what Dick planned on doing next.

Dick cautiously swung his legs to his right and then to his left, trying his best not to move the door with his own momentum. He did this several more times, and when he felt he was at the peak of his left swing, he let go of the top of the door. He lightly landed on his feet on the floor, allowing his knees to bend until his bottom was a few inches from the floor. Dick put out his arms to steady himself before standing up straight.

Again, Batman watched this in awe. It was obvious that Dick had made landings like this multiple times, and he did so with a grace and elegance that Bruce himself had spent years trying to achieve.

"Nice," Batman said, but he wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to. It could have been Dick's agility, or Dick's ability to complete this task at all. Or perhaps it was both. He didn't know.

Next, Dick pushed the door open again, giving him space to throw the Batarang. Dick retrieved it from where he had stored it in his belt, lifting it up above his head, but then he dropped his hand back to his side. He stared at Batman, at how far across the room he seemed to be, suddenly not so sure if he could do this at all. Climbing up a door was one thing, but throwing the Batarang was completely another.

As if sensing the hesitation in Dick's face, Batman asked, "Have you thrown a boomerang before?"

Dick shook his head no in response.

"All right," Batman said. "I'll talk you through this too. Grip it on the bottom near the rope."

Dick hurried to comply, wrapping the fingers of his right hand around the Batarang. Then he looked to Batman for assurance. "Like this?"

"Not so tightly," Batman replied. "Lower your hand on it a bit more, holding it with just your middle and index fingers and thumb."

Dick did so, his heart suddenly speeding up again in his chest. He hadn't imagined that this part of the plan would be so complicated.

"You're going throw it overhand like a baseball," Batman said, "keeping the Batarang as vertical as possible. Practice it a couple times over there before you throw it."

Dick nodded, lifting his hand over his head. He drew his hand back farther and then straightened his arm, trying his best to mimic what he imagined to be a good baseball throw. The only experience he really had with baseball was out on the playground at the Gotham City Orphanage.

"Keep your eyes on where you want to throw," Batman said, but then he thought of something better. "Keep your eyes on me."

Nodding again, Dick lifted his head and locked his eyes with Bruce's.

"Good," Batman said. "Widen your stance to give yourself a bit more balance and stability."

Dick did so, falling into a position that had become almost second nature for him in the circus.

"Give yourself a little bit more slack on the rope," Batman instructed.

Dick looked down for a moment, his eyes following the trail of rope from where it hung above the door. Some of it had slipped over the edge of the floor, hanging down towards the acid pit below. When Dick realized this, he frantically began pulling it up so that it was resting on the floor. The acid was quite a distance below them, but Dick had had a brief moment of panic, imagining acid dissolving the rope to nothing. He was relieved to see that it was still completely whole and that it hadn't reached the acid at all. It wouldn't do for acid to have eaten through the rope before he could even get it to Batman.

When Dick got the entire rope safely resting at his feet, he looked back at Batman for more instructions.

"Don't hold it too tightly," Batman told him again, noticing that Dick's grip on the Batarang had grown tighter and tighter with each passing instruction. "Loosely. Just enough pressure so that it doesn't fall out of your hand."

Dick took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm himself. He loosened his grip on the Batarang and checked his arm's position over his head. He looked back at Batman again.

"All right," Batman said. "Try it now. If you don't make it the first time, you can reel it back in and try again. Just like fishing."

This caused Dick to smile slightly. It helped to soothe his beating heart a bit to hear Bruce compare this to something he liked to do and something he liked to think he was good at.

"Maybe you should get one of your hands ready to catch it," Dick pointed out. "You might need to loosen up your muscles a bit. Can you still hold on with one hand?"

Batman nodded, slowly opening the fingers of his right hand. Dick could see him grimacing a bit at the movement, pain probably rushing through his fingers as he did so. Batman slowly released the iron rung, bringing his hand down to his side. He opened and closed his fingers several times, trying to get feeling back into them. Next, he flexed his elbow several times and shook his hand as blood flow slowly returned to the extremity.

"Okay," Batman said after nearly a minute. "I think I'm ready."

Keeping his eyes pinned on Bruce, Dick drew back his hand one last time and let the Batarang soar. At first, Dick was certain that it wasn't going to make it. Like he had already said, he had never throw a boomerang at all in his life, and he wasn't even all that good at baseball. What did he know about this sort of thing? Dick thought it was going to fail miserably, that he would be doomed to watch while the Batarang fall down into the pit of acid, taking all of his hopes for rescuing Bruce along with it.

But the Batarang made a perfect arc, flying across the room. For a brief moment, Dick almost thought it was going to completely miss Batman, crash into the wall, and go plummeting down into the acid below. But it didn't. It arched down at just the perfect time, seeming to center in on Batman.

When it was close enough, Batman reached out for the Batarang. It was obvious his arm was still mostly numb, because his movements were slow and sloppy. At first, Robin was sure that he was going to miss the rope, but the Batarang found Batman regardless. The rope curled around Batman's arm, causing Batman to pull his arm closer to his body. Once the rope was trapped in between his arm and body, he stilled for several moments. Batman gasped for breath, closing his eyes in relief.

Dick let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. He gaped at the Batarang where it was dangling from Batman's arm, completely in awe that he had done it correctly the very first time, requiring minimal effort on Batman's part. Dick's eyes went back and forth between the Batarang and Bruce, his breaths also coming in heavy and relieved gasps.

"Great job, chum," Batman praised, smiling.

Dick smiled back, and this slowly spread into a grin. "I can't believe I did it," Dick said, but then his mind turned to more pressing matters. "Can you tie it around the rung?" Dick asked in concern. A part of him hadn't even stopped to think about what would happen if Batman couldn't even move his arms to complete this part of the task.

"I'm going to try," Batman said, his eyes going up towards the rung he was still clinging to.

It was Batman's turn to take some deep and calming breaths, trying to prepare himself for the task ahead. Very slowly and carefully, Batman brought his arm away from his body. He let the rope start to slide of his arm, and Robin was sure he was going to drop it. However, Batman managed to grab the Batarang at the last moment, proving that his reflexes were returning.

Batman brought his hand upwards toward the ladder rung. He carefully slipped the Batarang between the ladder rung and the wall, letting it sway there for a few moments. Batman tugged down on the Batarang, making the rope taut. Then he brought the Batarang up again, looping it around the ladder rung several more times until it was secure. Once he was done, he grabbed the ladder rung with his right hand again, letting himself rest before he had to tackle the next task before him.

"Now you just have to get onto the rope. Just keep an eye on it," Dick said, trying to offer some guidance, just as Batman had done for him. "If you can't feel what you're doing with your arms, it'll help to at least watch where you're reaching for."

Batman nodded, acknowledging Dick's words.

"You can do this," Dick said firmly. "You told me once that determination is power. You can do it if you think you can."

Batman's lips curled into a smile. He stared at Dick for a long time. "You really take those things to heart, don't you?" Batman asked. "I think you're just humoring me a lot of the time."

"Of course I do," Dick said, sounding slightly surprised. "Take them to heart, I mean. All of them. Everything you tell me is important. Everything you _do_ is important."

Batman's chest was heaving now, but not for the task at hand. His eyes were locked with Dick's, neither one of them willing or able to direct their glance away. This gave Batman what he thought was the strength he needed for the task ahead. He took one last deep breath before he finally broke the gaze he shared with his young ward.

Batman looked up at the rope next. With one last gasp of breath, he let go of the bar with his left hand, reaching out wildly for the rope. Batman's hand missed, the rope just slipping through his fingers. Letting out a surprised gasp, Batman hung very precariously by one arm, his remaining limbs thrashing around for a hold on something, anything.

"Batman!" Dick cried out. He took a large step towards the doorway, his toes hanging over the edge of the floor. He grasped the doorjamb again with one hand, trying to control his urge to simply launch himself at his guardian. Dick's throat felt tight and almost painful with the thought that he was going to watch Bruce fall into the vat of acid below, knowing that he could do nothing but watch helplessly. Just as he had with his parents all those years ago.

After several more failed attempts to grab the rope, Batman's hand finally found it. He wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the rope, and then he waited for his body to stop swinging from the momentum it had gained.

"Batman," Dick gasped again, but his voice was barely above a whisper this time.

"I'm okay," Batman assured him. He glanced down at Dick, holding the young boy's gaze firmly once again. "I'm not letting go."

Dick let out a shuddering breath which was punctuated by a sob at the end. It hadn't really occurred to him until right then exactly how terrified he was that Bruce might not ever hug him again. Up until that point, Dick thought he had probably been running on pure adrenaline; in fact, he was sure that that was what got him through this entire series of events thus far. Now, it was really hitting home exactly how serious this situation was and how very close he was to losing Bruce once and for all. And there was nothing else that Dick could do right now to help, and that thought was driving him crazy more than any other. It was all up to Batman now.

"Batman," Dick pleaded, "please hold on." Tears had suddenly sprung up in his eyes and had begun to soak into the fabric of his mask. He was never one to cry, but he didn't really care anymore. All he cared about was Bruce.

"I am," Batman said, then he met Dick's eyes again. "I am. Listen to me. I am _not_ going to let go."

Dick pressed a hand over his mouth, trying his best to stem any errant cries from escaping him. He simply nodded.

Returning his eyes to the rope, Batman let go of the bar with his right hand. He reached out until he caught the rope in that hand too, and this time went much smoother than his first attempt had. When he had both hands safely wrapped around the rope, he allowed himself a moment to still again, lest any of his momentum propel him off the rope.

"I don't know if I have the strength to get my legs up and around the rope," Batman said, staring up at the rope above him helplessly. "I thought I would, but I'm afraid the momentum I'd need would be too much for my arms to handle right now. I'm just going to slowly slide across."

Little by little, Batman began making his way across the rope. He kept his hands firmly around the rope, only moving each one about an inch or so at a time, much too tired to try moving them any farther than that.

Dick watched with bated breath, and it felt like his heart had lodged itself in his throat. With each minute movement, he was certain that Bruce was going to lose his careful grip on the rope and go spiraling down into the pool below. The distance between Dick and Batman couldn't have been more than twenty feet, but it felt so much longer than that. It felt like a million miles could have stretched out between them instead.

Batman kept on inching towards him, and Dick didn't make a sound, for fear of disturbing his careful concentration. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Batman seemed to be growing ever closer, and Dick was no longer worried that his guardian wouldn't be able to close the distance. He was only worried about how Batman would make it down to the floor once he got there.

When Batman was only about a foot away from the doorway, he said, "Give me some room. I'm going to try and start swinging to give myself enough moment to reach the floor.

For a split second, Dick thought about arguing with his guardian. Did Batman even have enough energy left to do what he was suggesting? In the end, however, Dick did as he was told; if Batman said he could do it, then Dick had to believe he could.

Once he had enough space to land, Batman gently began rocking his legs back and forth. It was slow and almost painful to watch. At this close distance, Dick could see him flinching in discomfort at almost every single movement. Dick could scarcely begin to imagine what Batman's arms must feel like at this moment, let alone the rest of his body.

Batman swung back and forth several times until his feet seemed to reach ever closer to the floor. Dick had backed up until he was several feet away, and he was biting down on his bottom lip until it was almost painful.

Then Batman let go the next time he swung forward, flying forward into the room and safely over the floor below. He landed hard on his feet, nothing at all like Dick had just moments before. Batman let out a heavy gasp at this and he fell forward. He put out his arms wildly to catch himself, but for all the good it did. His arms were in absolutely no shape to be supporting anything anymore, much less the weight of a fully grown man. His arms gave out from under him, causing him to fall flat on his face with a loud groan.

Dick started forward, putting his hand out in an attempt to grab Batman's shoulder, but he didn't get very far. Batman rolled over on his back, allowing his arms to splay out to his sides. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and his breathing hard.

Dick was almost too afraid to move at first. He wanted to ask Batman if he was okay, but one look at him was more than enough to know the answer to that. Dick wanted to go to him and throw his arms around his guardian, but Batman didn't appear to be in the shape for that either. So Dick simply stood there, frozen to his place in fear. He had never seen Bruce so beleaguered before, and Dick didn't like it. Bruce always seemed to be on top of things, always seemed to be at the top of his game, and Dick just wasn't used to this.

Batman turned his head slowly, staring long and hard at Dick while he caught his breath. "You can come closer, you know," Batman said around his gasps. "I'm not going to break."

Dick breathed a small sigh of relief. He carefully stepped forward and lowered himself to his knees, but he still didn't dare touch Batman. "Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

"I will be," Batman replied. "I'm just sore. Nothing a long day in bed and some of Aunt Harriet's chicken soup won't fix."

Dick tried his best to stop himself, but he couldn't. He suddenly leaned forward, burying his head in Batman's chest. He didn't want to do anything to hurt Batman further, but Dick had been so terrified that he'd never be able to touch Bruce again. The longer this day went on, that was the only thing Dick had wanted – to be safe at home in bed with Bruce's arms wrapped tightly around him. Dick hadn't realized until just then how much he was coming to depend on that very thing to comfort him. Dick knew that he probably looked like a little kid with his head laying across Batman's chest, but he really didn't care. There was no one else there to see him, and Dick knew that Bruce didn't care in the least either.

And then the most miraculous and best thing of all – Batman's arms finally came up and slowly laid across Dick's quivering back. This caused Dick to begin sobbing anew.

"I'm okay," Batman said reassuringly. "Honestly, just lying here with you makes me feel a lot better already."

"You're just saying that," Dick said, pulling away slightly to look up at Batman.

"No, I'm not," Batman replied. "Haven't you realized yet how much you mean to me? I…there was a moment there where I was afraid I might not make it. I was truly terrified that I was going to fall into that pool of acid and do you know what my very worst thought in all of that was?"

"Dying?"

"Oh no," Batman replied.

Dick almost thought Batman's tone was amused, although Dick couldn't figure out why. Dick thought there might even have been a hint of laughter in Batman's eyes, but Dick eventually decided it was just his imagination. Why on earth would Batman be amused about anything like that?

"What scared me the most in that moment," Batman continued on, seemingly oblivious to Dick's unasked questions, "was the thought that I would never see you again. That and the fact that you would have had to live forever with the fact that yet another parental figure had left you."

"Oh, Batman," Dick whispered and those pesky tears were stinging at his eyes again. "It wouldn't have been you. You can't help it when things like this happen. You told me that more than once."

"I did," Bruce agreed, "but at the same time, those were the things keeping me alive. Those were the things that kept me hanging on just a little bit longer. Just when I felt like giving up, like I couldn't possibly hold on anymore, my mind kept coming back to you. Back to the fact that I couldn't possibly leave you alone. Not when you've already known so much loss in your young life. And I knew that I had to see you again. That was perhaps what I wanted more than anything else – to see you again. That was all I kept wishing for while I was hanging there for so long. And then I heard your voice, and I opened my eyes, and there you were."

Dick let out a breath, something between a laugh and sob. Even he wasn't sure which one it was anymore. "Why on earth would you want to see little old me?" Even though Dick thought he knew the answer to that – he and Bruce had talked about it more than enough times – a tiny part of him wanted to hear it again. In fact, Dick didn't think he would ever tire of hearing such things from Bruce.

"You have to ask?" Bruce said incredulously. "Because you're my _son_. Because I'll never get tired of seeing you, of talking to you. Even if I live to be one hundred, spending time with you will _still_ be something I'll look forward to. Always."

Dick wanted nothing more than to hug and Bruce and lay with him there for a while, but there was hardly time for that. They were still in the Joker's hideout with the Joker and his gang just across the room.

"Can you sit up?" Robin asked.

"I think so," Batman said. He slowly got his hands underneath him and slowly pushed himself up, his face contorting into a grimace as he went. "What did you do to the Joker and his gang anyway? I may be a bit of a mess if I was forced to fight them right now."

"I used knockout gas," Robin finally admitted a bit sheepishly. "I hardly fought them or anything," he said around a snicker. "I left them-"

Robin had raised his finger to point across the room, and this was the very first time he was taking in the rest of the room. He had been so focused in on Batman for the last half hour or so, the rest of the world might have ceased to exist. Indeed, Robin hadn't even noticed that the floor where he had left the Joker and his gang was now completely empty.

 _Holy guessing games, Batfans!  
_ _Where could the Joker and his gang could have gone?  
_ _Are they hiding somewhere, just out of sight, ready to attack our heroes once more?  
_ _Are Batman and Robin really in the clear?_

 _For the answers to these and other burning questions,  
_ _Tune in next time…  
_ _Same fan site…  
_ _Same fan channel._


	7. Chapter 7: Broken

**On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin  
** Chapter 7 – Broken

 _When last we left our budding Dynamic Duo, Robin had just saved Batman from what was to be certain death in one of the Joker's grisly traps. However, after an all too brief reunion, Robin had realized that the Joker and his gang were gone. Where could they have gone, and why didn't they attack the Caped Crusaders when they had the chance?_

"That was good thinking – using knockout gas," Batman said. He had crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his hands up and down his upper arms to try and restore blood flow. "I wouldn't have wanted you trying to take on all four of them by yourself. You easily could have ended up on the losing end."

Robin didn't respond. He had gotten to his feet, staring blankly at the empty floor before him. Batman was too focused on his own recovery to notice that anything was amiss just yet.

"Batman," Robin choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. When Batman turned to look at him, Robin raised a hand and pointed. "I left them lying here!" He looked around wildly, as if the bodies of the unconscious men would have simply moved across the room by themselves. Turning back to Batman, Dick muttered, "I'm sorry, Batman. They were knocked out…or at least I thought they were." He gave Batman an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it," Batman said. He heaved a heavy breath, finally climbing to his feet. He appeared a little unsteady at first, swaying back and forth in his boots.

Dick immediately rushed to his side, grabbing onto Batman's arm and helping to steady him.

"But I had them!" Dick muttered, tightening his grip on Batman's arm in frustration. "We could have had them arrested now…but I let them get away. I should have…tied them up or something. I wasn't thinking. I was much too focused on finding you." He hung his head in shame.

"And that you did," Batman said, smiling down at Robin proudly. When Robin didn't respond, Batman pulled his arm out of Robin's grasp, lifting it and wrapping it around the young boy's shoulders. "I said not to worry about it, old chum. You already did much more than I thought you would."

Robin still felt bad, but he nodded his head in agreement anyway. Then something occurred to him.

"But I don't understand why they just left," Robin said around a frown. He gestured to the door behind Batman, to the horrid smokestack beyond where his guardian had been left clinging to life just a few short moments ago. "I was balanced in that doorway the whole time. They could have so easily knocked me over the edge and left you for dead again. Why leave me in the process of saving your life?" Shaking his head, he added, "I don't get it."

"Because the Joker isn't done with his caper yet," Batman replied immediately, certainly. "Don't forget how this all began – the Joker going around to various stores around Gotham, leaving nothing more than a playing card behind and telling them to remember he was there."

"Right," Robin said slowly.

So very much had happened since they had learned of the Joker's mysterious new plot. After Batman had gone missing and Dick had embarked on this life changing journey to find him, the Joker's previous antics seemed downright silly and inconsequential. Truth be told, Dick had even forgotten about them. In the end, however, Robin knew that nothing the Joker did was ever that innocent.

"We both know he's still planning something dastardly," Batman said. He let out a small breath and added, "He wants me to try and figure out what he's up to. That's half the fun for him sometimes. He's almost like the Riddler in that regard; they both thrive on leaving clues for me to follow."

"So he didn't really want to kill you?" Robin asked, staring up at Batman.

"Let's not forget that the mind of a criminal is a very chaotic place," Batman told him. "I'm sure a part of him did, but where would that leave all the clues he's left so far? Chief O'Hara and his men would have caught up to him eventually – of that I have no doubt – but the Joker wants me to get to the end of this scavenger hunt he's sent me on."

"So what's our next move?" Robin asked, the question out of his mouth before he barely had time to register what he was saying. It had almost seemed like a given that he would be helping Batman with the rest of this case, but he immediately knew by Batman's reaction that that had been a foolish assumption.

Batman stared down at Dick out of the corners of his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was firm. "This isn't going to be the start of your crime fighting career."

Robin shook his head, his eyes wide. "I never said it was," he told Batman. "I just meant-"

"I know you," Batman cut him off, enunciating each word. He turned his head to face Robin more fully, placing his hands on his hips. "I know that look of excitement you get in your eyes when you do something you love. I know the tone of enthusiasm that turns up in your voice. I _know_ you," he repeated, narrowing his eyes down at Robin.

"I…" Dick began, but then his voice very quickly died in his throat. He swallowed hard and quietly said, "I know." He figured that would be the best way to appease Batman right now, even though deep down, they both knew that this wasn't the end of it.

If he was being honest, Robin loved this about Batman. He loved that his guardian knew him so well that he could simply judge how Dick was feeling by the tone of his voice, by the expression on his face. Once Dick's parents had died, he didn't know if he'd be able to find anyone that knew him as well as they did. And he'd found all of that and more in Bruce. It was times like this, however, that it became a bit of a problem that Batman could so easily pick up on his video and audio cues.

Dick knew he had already promised Bruce that he wouldn't get involved in this, but there was no denying the fact that he was now very much intertwined with Bruce's double life. Given, Dick was only here now, because he felt like he had had little choice in the matter; this had been a rare exception, but a part of Dick didn't feel like he could give this up now. Was that a part of why Bruce did it? Was it almost like a drug that kept him coming back for more?

That wasn't the only reason, of course, but Dick could see what was so attractive about this lifestyle. Everything about this had been exciting – knocking out the criminals and finding and saving Batman. Of course, Dick knew that it wouldn't always be this way. Just as he had admitted himself, the Joker and his gang could have so easily killed Robin if they saw fit. Crime fighting was a nasty business, as Bruce always reminded him, but it was also ridiculously thrilling. Dick knew he would jump at the chance to do this again if Batman even offered him the opportunity.

What would Batman say if Dick confessed that he felt this way? He was certain that Bruce would be mad. In fact, Bruce's emotions were already bordering on anger if Dick wasn't mistaken. Bruce would probably remind Dick of the promise he had made and tell him that there was absolutely no way Dick would become his partner. Dick was certain. There was no way this was going to happen.

Was there? He was being ridiculous, wasn't he? Robin could never tell Batman he felt this way, because he knew what he would be in for. At the same time, however, Dick never hid things from Bruce. Could Dick really resume his day to day life like crime fighting wasn't going to be in the back of his mind from now on?

"Let's go," Batman said tersely. He headed for the window where Robin had come in, climbing up over the window sill to lower himself back down to the street.

Robin had been about to ask him if could climb down a rope in his current state. After all, Batman had just spent hours upon hours hanging from a ladder rung with no blood flow in his arms at all. However, his voice died in his throat as he watched Batman grab onto the rope and begin his descent seemingly without thought.

Robin stood rooted to his spot for several moments, those insecurities had had felt in the Batcave creeping up on him again. He suddenly felt silly and stupid again, standing there in a circus outfit like he was an actual superhero on the same level as Batman. Robin desperately wished that Alfred was there to reassure him again, to let him know that he wasn't completely out of his league.

Even though he knew he was.

After Batman phoned Alfred and Commissioner Gordon to let them know he was okay, he silently put the Batmobile into drive and pulled away from the factory. Neither Batman nor Robin said a word to each other as they drove back to the Batcave. Robin was aware of the thick tension that had set into the air between them. He desperately wanted to say something, his mind cycling through responses in his head the entire ride. Should he say something funny to break the tension? Should he just talk about his feelings on the matter? In the end, however, he decided against each and every one of them.

Robin simply stared at the buildings of the city going by, unable to even glance in Batman's direction. The wind was ruffling Robin's hair as they went, and he almost expected this experience to thrill him, but it didn't. He had only ridden in the Batmobile once before, and that had been just after Batman had rescued him from the Riddler. Dick had fallen asleep on the way home and hadn't really gotten to appreciate what it was like. This, however, was nothing like Dick had been expecting. Every painful mile that went by seemed to last an eternity. Dick simply wanted to get home so he could get out of his godforsaken getup and bury himself under the covers in bed.

Finally, when they were less than a mile from the Batcave, Batman finally spoke to him, and it was the last thing Dick wanted to hear.

"This was a one-time thing," Batman said firmly. "You will never do this again, just like you promised me the first time." Batman glanced at Robin out of the corner of his eye again.

Robin's very first instinct was to give Batman exactly what he wanted. He could simply promise Batman that this would never happen again, and it would be the end of the conversation. As it was, however, there was absolutely no way Robin could make a promise he wasn't entirely sure he planned on keeping. Not to mention, he definitely couldn't make that promise to Bruce of all people. Dick wasn't going to deliberately deceive this man that had given him so very much.

"Batman…" Robin began, still trying to come up with some sort of argument he could use.

"I said no," Batman cut him off firmly. "You gave me your word before, and I want you to do so again. This was a special situation, I understand that, but under no circumstances will you take this as a sign that you'll one day become my partner. No way, no how. Your word."

Robin hesitated, biting his lip awkwardly. "Can't we at least talk about it? I mean-"

"No," Batman cut him off once again. Batman's tone told Robin that he was getting into territory that he didn't want to go. It was rare that Batman raised his voice at all, but now, it was clear that he was becoming angry, something that Robin hadn't seen very often.

"Dick," Batman bit out once more. "I want your word. That's an order."

Robin was aware that this was the second time in the last hour or so that he'd be defying an order from his guardian. The first instance had been excusable, reserved for times when they'd been caught up in a maniac's death trap. Now, Dick wasn't entirely certain what Bruce would do if he defied him again, but Dick felt he had to.

"I'm sorry," was all Dick said at first. He turned to face Batman before he added, "I can't make a promise to you that I don't think I can keep."

Batman didn't reply. In fact, he gave absolutely no sign that he had even heard Dick at all. Batman simply continued to drive, his eyes directly on the road in front of him. Neither of them s spoke again until they screeched to a halt in the Batcave.

"Bruce," Dick said, watching Batman get out of the Batmobile. When Batman didn't even so much as look at him, Dick climbed to his feet and hoisted himself over the door of the car. There were much more pressing things going on than to bother using the car door like a normal person.

"Bruce," Dick said, hurrying around the Batmobile to try and keep up with Batman. "Please, just talk to me about this."

Finally, at long last, Batman stopped and turned around. It, however, wasn't the friendly face that Dick wanted to see. Even through the small eye openings in the Batman mask, Dick could see Bruce's normally friendly eyes were now narrowed in anger. The corners of Bruce's mouth were pulled down into a frown.

"If I've told you once," Batman said, "I've told you a million times – when I'm in this suit, it's Batman."

Dick could feel himself shrinking back slightly at Bruce's tone. Dick hung his head, unable to meet his guardian's eyes. He hated doing anything at all that earned him the anger of Bruce in any way, shape, or form. Dick was more than aware that it was Batman when Bruce was in the suit, but it made him feel better sometimes to be able to use his guardian's given name.

"We're in the Batcave," Dick offered by way of explanation, still staring down at the ground. "You called me Dick in the car. And in the factory."

"I told you," Batman bit out, his anger still apparent. "It's a good habit to get into regardless of where we are. I wasn't in my right mind at the factory. You'll have to excuse me. I also thought that perhaps using your given name in the car would be a good way to get you to see reason, but clearly, I was wrong."

"I know," Dick whispered. "I just thought…" Dick stopped, taking a chance to look up into his guardian's eyes. "I don't want to talk to Batman right now. I want to talk to Bruce."

Batman paused at these words, seemingly frozen in place. After a few moments, he reached up to unfasten his cowl and pull it off. He ran his empty hand over his face and through his hair, smoothing it back down where it had been mussed.

"Better?" Bruce asked.

Dick nodded, swallowing hard. However, that didn't serve to make things any easier like he had imagined it might. Silence only stretched out between them like an impenetrable and impossible barrier.

After what seemed like forever, Bruce finally said, "I'm not angry at you for coming after me. I know you felt you had to, but this will not happen again. Let's not forget you've already promised me it wouldn't. This doesn't give you permission to go back on that." Batman enunciated every word and then gestured to Dick, at the outfit he was wearing.

"Yes," Dick said and he was only slightly aware of how disrespectful he sounded. "I did promise you, but it wouldn't be the only promise that's ever been broken in this house, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"That's not fair," Bruce said curtly, shaking his head and closing his eyes, "and you know it. Especially considering the fact that you've told me until you're blue in the face that you've forgiven me for that."

"And I have," Dick replied. "But you've also taught me that when the circumstances call for it, that some promises must be broken. You were in danger. I couldn't just sit around here, not knowing what had happened to you, waiting for you contact me. I just couldn't, and I'd do the exact same thing again if the need arose."

"I can take care of myself," Batman said in response.

"Bruce," Dick said, his tone implying that his guardian just might be crazy. "I was _there_. The Joker had left you for dead. You said so yourself you couldn't have held on for much longer. If I hadn't come when I had…"

"If you hadn't come when you had," Bruce said, cutting him off, "I would have gotten out of it. I always do."

"Keep telling yourself that," Dick said. It suddenly occurred to him how very rude he was being, but he couldn't quite help it. He hated being nasty to Bruce, but Dick was feeling so very hurt by this recent turn of events. Dick had known that Bruce probably wouldn't have been happy about Dick busting in to save him. Dick had been more than prepared for that. What he hadn't been prepared for, however, was the lack of appreciation he was receiving from Bruce. He knew that Bruce still didn't want to admit that he had needed help, but a little 'thank you' would have gone a long way in Dick's book.

"You haven't been there," Bruce said quietly. "I've gotten out of so many worse scrapes than that."

"Right," Dick replied coldly. "Why would you ever need me?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it," Bruce said. He took a few steps towards Dick before continuing on. "After all that we've talked about, after how far we've come, how can you say that to me?"

Dick crossed his arms over his chest, staring off across the Batcave towards the Batpole. "I don't know," Dick admitted, and he honestly didn't. He suddenly began to wonder if this was the beginning of the end of his relationship with Bruce. Things suddenly felt so very cold and wrong between them, and Dick wasn't entirely sure they could ever recover from this. Dick supposed that Bruce felt like his trust had been broken, and Dick could understand that. However, desperate times called for desperate measures, and wasn't that what a life or death situation was? Why couldn't Bruce simply be glad in the fact that Dick cared enough to risk his life to help him? Why did it always have to be all or nothing with Bruce?

Dick didn't think he had the strength to go on with this conversation at the moment. Things were simply degrading into an argument with Bruce, and Dick wasn't prepared for things to get any worse between them. Perhaps if they let things cool off, like they were apt to do, they could come back to the conversation and work things out just like they always did.

Dick remembered the last argument they had had, the one in his room the night that he had found out Bruce's secret. They had given each other some space before coming back and talking things out more calmly the second time around. Maybe they could do that again. The only difference was that that heart to heart had ended with Dick spending the entire night in Bruce's arms. With the way he currently felt, Dick didn't think he could ever see himself wanting to do that ever again.

He was just too hurt by Bruce's current attitude towards him.

"Right," Bruce sighed. "Well, I can see that you're done with this conversation. I'm going to go take a long hot bath, and perhaps you can come and find me when you feel more open to talking about this like adults." He turned on his heel and began to head towards the Batpole.

"I'm not an adult," Dick snapped after him. He knew he was feeling beyond angry and hurt to claim such a thing, but sometimes Dick wondered if Bruce simply expected too much out of him.

"No," Bruce agreed, stopping and turning to face Dick once more. "You're not. And perhaps it would serve you well to remember that I'm the one whose care you were put into. It's my job to make the decisions that I think are best for you, and I hardly think that running around as a masked vigilante is what you should be doing."

"I'm sure Alfred didn't either."

Bruce looked slightly taken aback at Dick's words. Bruce drew back slightly, almost as if someone had slapped him. He didn't say another word, but simply turned, headed across the Batcave, and disappeared up the Batpole.

Dick let out a growl of frustration. He hung his head again, staring down at the floor. But then his eyes fell on the green boots he was wearing. Slowly, his eyes travelled upwards and he stared at his tights, at his green underwear that matched his boots. At his red shirt. At his green gloves. At the spare utility belt Alfred had found for him. At the bright yellow cape he was wearing, the one he had thought had been so very beautiful the first time he saw it.

His eyes welled up with tears all of a sudden. Dick felt stupid, and ridiculous, and childish all at once. It was like a tidal wave of realization had hit him. He couldn't believe he had said those things to Bruce. To _his_ Bruce. The man that had been raising him for more than a year and the man whom Dick was coming to see as a father.

Why did his emotions always get the better of him?

Dick suddenly wanted out of his absurd outfit and to forget that the last twenty-four hours had even happened. He reached up to pull off his mask. He held it before him in his gloved hands, staring at the black material for the longest time as if it might contain the answers he so desperately wanted.

How had this even happened? How had he come to be standing here, in the middle of the Batcave of all places, wearing some costume that a child might wear on Halloween? When on earth had his life taken such a sharp and crazy turn? Just a couple months ago, he had simply been Dick Grayson, ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne. And now…Dick wasn't sure if he had any idea who he was anymore.

Dick flung his mask across the cave to land on the flashing console of the Batcomputer. Next, Dick tore off the dark green gloves he was wearing. He threw those as well, watching them come to rest near his mask. Dick used one hand to wipe away the tears that were falling down his cheeks while he reached up with the other hand to unbutton his cape.

Dick let the cape fall to the floor of the Batcave, staring down at the pool of soft yellow satin at his feet. Suddenly, the tears were welling up in his eyes and pouring down his cheeks like there was no tomorrow. And perhaps there wasn't.

Dick just let the tears fall, his chest beginning to heave with each breath that wracked his tiny form.

He wasn't even aware of the fact that he was no longer alone in the Batcave. A warm and comforting hand had suddenly come down on Dick's shoulder. For a very precarious moment, Dick was almost certain that it was Bruce, coming to apologize and thank Dick for saving his life. When Dick looked up, however, it was into the kind old eyes of Alfred.

Dick had thought he'd wanted Bruce in that moment, but he had been wrong. He felt the tiniest bit better in having Alfred there. Alfred was someone that he knew wouldn't be angry at him, not for simply trying to save Bruce's life.

Continuing to sob, Dick leaned heavily into Alfred. He buried his face in this material of the butler's suit, not even caring that he might stain or ruin the material with his tears and snot. Apparently, neither did Alfred. He wrapped his arms tightly around Dick's shoulders, holding him closely.

"Try not to be too upset at Master Bruce," Alfred said quietly after several moments of nothing else but Dick's sobs. He rubbed Dick's back soothingly and added, "It's hard for him to sometimes admit that he needs help."

"He didn't even say thank you," Dick muttered against Alfred's chest. He pulled away slightly, wiping some of the tears from his face. "I think that's what upset me the most."

Alfred let out a heavy sigh. He let go of his hold on Dick's back, gripping Dick's shoulders instead.

"Let's sit down for a minute," Alfred said, beginning to guide the young boy over to the desk in the corner of the cave.

It was the same place Dick had had his last heart to heart with Bruce. A part of Dick longed for that moment, longed for the closeness he had felt with Bruce in that moment. Had that only been twenty-four hours ago? Dick remembered thinking that he might never feel as close to Bruce as he had in that moment, sitting by the desk. It was now becoming very apparent to Dick that that might have been true. With how things were between them now, would their relationship ever truly get back to normal? Had the trust that had taken nearly two years to build now been shattered in the span of a few hours?

When Dick had taken a seat in one of the chairs, he noticed that Alfred hadn't yet joined him. Alfred had made his way back to Dick's fallen cape, picking it up off the floor of the Batcave. He smoothed it out, brushing away any dust that clung to it.

This made Dick smile. Sometimes it comforted him to see things that would never change, such as Alfred's diligence in his duties. Even small things like that seemed like an anchor in a world of chaos, in a world where Dick's relationship with Bruce might have been damaged beyond repair.

Alfred set the cape on top of the desk before taking a seat next to Dick. Alfred leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees.

"If Master Bruce had said thank you," Alfred finally said after a long moment of silence, "that would be admitting, in some way, that he had needed your help to begin with. He can be very stubborn and set in his ways, especially when he doesn't think he's in the wrong to begin with. Once he has his mind made up about something, it can be very hard to change it. I suspect you know that."

"Yeah, I do," Dick sighed. "I just…a simple thank you doesn't mean admitting defeat."

Alfred considered this for a while before he replied. "I think for Master Bruce, it's also a matter of wanting to keep you safe. Try and remember, you are the most important thing in this world to him. Your safety is his number one priority. When he saw that you had come to save him, he probably felt like he had failed you in some way. How on earth can he keep you safe when he couldn't even keep himself safe this time around? When you risked your own life to save his, it probably made him feel horribly inadequate. You know how much he prides himself on being independent."

Dick nodded, taking a moment to wipe away more of the tears that had cascaded down his cheeks. "It's one of the things I admire the most about him."

"Then try and put yourself in his position," Alfred said. "When he had to rely on you to save him, he wasn't being very independent, was he? Nor was he living up to his own expectations that he's set for himself as your guardian. Honestly, he's probably a lot angrier at himself than he is at you right now."

Dick thought about this for a long time. He supposed that Alfred was right. Dick hadn't even really stopped to consider what Bruce himself had gone through in all of this. But it still bothered Dick.

"But he isn't inadequate!" Dick exclaimed. "I wouldn't have even been able to save him at all if he hadn't been there, talking me through everything I was doing. Doesn't he see how much better he's making me?"

"I'm sure he does," Alfred said. "He probably also sees it as a way of encouraging you to do things like this, and that was the last thing he ever wanted."

"I had to," Dick said simply, shaking his head miserably. "I couldn't just wait here, not knowing where he was or what was happening to him. I couldn't stand it."

"Which is why I let you go at all," Alfred told him. "He's become just as important to you as you are to him. I couldn't even imagine what you would have done if something had happened to him. And…I thought it was something you were capable of." Alfred broke off, letting out a little laugh. "Something that I'm probably going to earn a lot of flak from him about."

"I'm glad you're able to see that, Alfred," Dick said, "because I'm not sure if Bruce ever will. I'm just sorry if this does cause problems between the two of you."

"We'll be okay," Alfred reassured him. "It certainly won't be the first time we've had to work out our differences. But again, try and put yourself in his shoes. Try and see where Master Bruce is coming from in all of this. He sees you as his _son_. You and I both know that. A parent's primary objective is to protect their children. I know that for a fact, and that doesn't mean any less just because someone isn't related to you by blood."

Dick quickly looked up at Alfred. "Did you go through the same things when he became Batman?"

"Yes," Alfred said, nodding his head. "I did. I didn't want to let him do it at first. Even after he had been training for so long, even when in all honesty, I knew he could more than take care of himself. Because he's my son. He's my son in every way that you're his. In every way that counts. And I couldn't stand the thought of him risking his own life."

"Why are you completely okay with it now? What made you change your mind?" Dick asked, trying not to sound as accusing as he thought he probably did.

Alfred took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling of the Batcave for a while before he answered. "Because it was what made him happy. It was what he had to do. He _is_ Batman. He was destined to _be_ Batman. Of that I have no doubt. He was absolutely miserable when we were at odds over what he was doing, when he thought I would never accept or condone it. But then, I think every parent comes to that point in their lives where they have to…let go. They have to let their child spread their wings and follow their own path, even if that path is dangerous. I'd be doing the equivalent of locking him in a cage if I didn't let him pursue his dreams. And that – being locked in a cage – is for those who have lost their freedom. Not for those young people simply trying to make their way in this world...and to make that world a better place."

Dick let Alfred's words sink in for several moments. Dick swallowed hard before he asked, "Do you think Bruce would ever be able to accept it if I decided to follow in his footsteps? Because you're right – birds deserve to be free."

This earned a small smile from Alfred. "I'm sure he will, Master Dick. Just as I did once upon a time." He leaned forward, taking one of Dick's small hands in one his larger ones. "Just try and be patient with him, would you? Don't be angry at him for only trying to protect the young man that he sees as his son. It's simply a sign that he loves you. If he didn't, he wouldn't care if you were risking your life. He'd just let you get on with it."

"I know," Dick admitted around a long sigh. "I forget what other people must be going through sometimes when I get so wrapped up in my own anger."

"It's a human flaw, Master Dick. Don't beat yourself up too harshly over it."

Dick smiled at Alfred's words, but then he suddenly buried his head in his hand. "And I didn't mean to be so rude to Bruce. I said some horrible things to him, like throwing it back in his face how much he's lied to me, even after I told him I'd forgiven him for it." Dick peeked out from around his hand to stare at Alfred. "Why do we do that? Say horrible things to people that are only trying to protect us?"

"Again, you can't fault yourself for being human, Master Dick," Alfred said. "It's something we're all guilty of. Yes, including me _and_ Batman. It's a flaw in us you're just going to have to accept."

Dick's smile continued to grow. A moment later, he got to his feet, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck.

"Thank you, Alfred," Dick said, his voice muffled by the butler's suit. "I don't know what Bruce and I would do without you."

"Think nothing of it," Alfred reassured him, patting him warmly on the back.

When Dick pulled away from him, he stared wistfully at the Batpole again. Then he sheepishly asked, "Do you think I should try and talk to Bruce now or wait for him to calm down a little bit first?"

"I know you'll feel a lot better if you do it now," Alfred pointed out.

"Yes," Dick agreed. "But I also know it can be hard to talk to Bruce when he's upset. Maybe I should wait a while before I try and work things out with him." Dick bit at his bottom lip and furrowed his brow at this. "If we're able to work things out at all."

"Master Dick?" Alfred asked, looking up at Dick in concern. He placed his hands on Dick's shoulders before continuing. "Listen to me. You and Master Bruce _will_ be able to talk this out. Okay? Please don't ever think that just because the two of you exchanged some heated words that it'll damage your relationship irreparably. Even the closest families argue, but nothing's going to change the way the two of you feel about each other. Do you hear me?"

Dick nodded, but he still wasn't entirely convinced. He felt slightly silly and perhaps even stupid for asking, but Bruce had told him that there wasn't any such thing as stupid questions. "So he won't force me to leave, will he?" Dick asked. Bruce had already promised him that he would always have a home at Wayne Manor, but sometimes he wondered.

"Master Dick!" Alfred said again, but this time, his voice sounded much more urgent. "There is _nothing_ you can do that will ever make things get to that point. Master Bruce loves you desperately, and he'll never give up on the two of you. Not even if you scream at him that you hate him. I know from personal experience. All right?"

It made Dick feel slightly better that even Bruce had been stupid and ungrateful once upon a time. Dick nodded again, wiping away the last evidence of any tears he had cried.

"Good," Alfred said, rubbing at the young boy's shoulders. "Now go find him."

Dick gave Alfred a grateful smile before he stepped around the desk and began to make his way across the Batcave.

"Master Dick?" Alfred called him back. "Just a suggestion – you might want to change clothes," he said, gesturing to Dick's outfit. "Let's not forget that Mrs. Cooper hasn't yet learned of your new identity." Alfred winked.

 _Will Bruce and Dick be able to work things out?  
Will Bruce ever be able to accept that his young ward may just want to follow in his footsteps as a masked vigilante?  
Will Batman and Robin ever ride in the Batmobile together as partners?_

 _For all these answers and more,  
Tune in next time…  
Same fan site...  
Same fan channel._

 _Don't you fly off the handle too!_


	8. Chapter 8: Spoken

**On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin  
** Chapter 8 – Spoken

 _When last we visited Wayne Manor, things had not ended so well for our fledgling Dynamic Duo. Will they be able to work things out? Will Bruce ever give in and let Dick become his partner?_

Dick's heart was pounding when he finally made his away upstairs. He was still afraid that Bruce was going to be beyond furious with him at everything that happened and that he might even kick Dick out because of it. Despite Alfred's reassurances to the contrary, Dick kept imagining that he might be packing his bags that very evening. He had no idea where he might go or where Bruce might intend for him to go, and that thought terrified Dick. Had things between them really gotten so bad that Dick thought he might be forced to leave?

Bruce wasn't anywhere to be found in his study, the living room, or the kitchen, so Dick made his way up to the second floor. For a very precarious moment, Dick was scared that in his fury, Bruce had left Wayne Manor and Dick wouldn't be able to talk to him until the morning. Dick hated the thought of letting this go for so long; he wasn't sure if he could sleep at all with the way he and Bruce had left things.

Dick's worries proved to be unfounded, however. Almost as soon as Dick got to the top of the stairs, he saw bright golden lamplight streaming out from under Bruce's closed bedroom door. This comforted Dick, somehow, knowing the Bruce was right on the other side of that door, as if waiting for him.

But then Dick's heart began pounding anew as he neared it. He had absolutely no idea what might happen between him and Bruce, and the thought was absolutely terrifying to him. Dick's hand was shaking horribly as he forced himself to raise his hand and knock.

There was no response at first, and Dick thought that perhaps Bruce had left the manor after all. But then came Bruce's soft and warm voice from the other side, "It's open."

Dick swallowed hard before he opened the door. He had almost been expecting Bruce to begin yelling at him and telling him to get out, but that didn't happen at all. Bruce was seated on the edge of his bed, wearing his favorite fuzzy white robe. His hair was still damp from his bath, and his hands were clasped in his lap. He had been staring down at them intently, but he looked up at Dick when the door opened.

Neither of them said anything at first, and the silence stretched out between them like an impenetrable force. Dick stood frozen to his spot, almost too scared to move, waiting for some sort of sign from Bruce. His guardian, however, simply sat there, staring at him.

Finally, Dick decided to cut to the chase and asked, "May I come in?" His voice cracked and was barely above a whisper.

"Of course," came Bruce's familiar and calm tone. "Always."

Dick slowly stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He took his time in doing this, almost too afraid to find out where their conversation might go. A part of him wanted to put the actual discussion off for as long as possible, but then in other ways, he didn't. Dick wanted nothing more than to work things out with Bruce, and he was scared to death that that might never happen.

Still more silence fell between them. It seemed like neither one of them even knew what to say to the other anymore. Dick hated this, hated how strained things had become between the two of them. Things had never been like this for them, at least not for a long time. Things had been so comfortable and so easy, Dick supposed he had almost taken it for granted. Why couldn't things go back to that?

"I don't even know where to begin," Dick said after a while, hoping to break the ice. That, however, only seemed to make the ensuing silence seem even more awkward.

Dick had almost been expecting Bruce to invite him to sit down on the bed next to him, but he did nothing of the sort. He was still watching Dick closely, as if trying to gauge his current thought process.

Dick let out a long sigh. Bruce was really going to make him do this, wasn't he? He was going to make Dick begin the conversation, was going to make Dick start apologizing first.

"Bruce," Dick finally said at long last, "listen. If you're waiting for me to apologize for coming after you…I'm not going to do that. I did what thought was right. I did what I thought I had to do. I didn't like disobeying you, and I certainly didn't like breaking my promise to you, but I didn't feel like I had any choice in the matter. I was terrified for you. I couldn't not do anything. I'm sorry if it hurt you, because that wasn't my intention. I just…wanted to help you. I had to help you. Just like you've helped me so many times before."

Dick rushed through all of this quickly before he could rethink what he was saying and change his mind. He found that once he began talking, he couldn't quite stop, and it felt good to have all of his feelings out. He was only worried about how Bruce might react.

His guardian didn't reply for a very long time, and Dick wished he would say something already. Bruce certainly knew how to drive him crazy sometimes, and perhaps that was Bruce's plan. Not that Dick thought that Bruce wanted to torture him like this. Dick knew that Bruce wouldn't do that to him, but perhaps Bruce was being quiet on purpose to make Dick really think about things.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Bruce answered him. "I know you did." Bruce paused again and frowned in thought, seemingly going through his possible choice of answers very carefully. "It just wasn't ever…the way I expected things to turn out. I never expected you to have to don a cape and mask yourself to…" Bruce broke off, rubbing a hand over his face. He rested his chin in his hand next, staring off at the far corner of the room.

"Bruce," Dick began, but then he stopped again almost as quickly. He really had no idea what he wanted to say.

"I have a hard time with this," Bruce finally admitted after a while, still not meeting Dick's eyes. "With admitting that I need help. With the fact that it was my fault that you had to put yourself into harm's way to begin with."

"Bruce," Dick repeated. "It's nothing you need to apologize for."

This finally caused Bruce to look up at him.

"It isn't," Dick insisted. "I mean…I did that gladly. I would do it again if I had to."

"But that's exactly my point," Bruce argued. "You shouldn't have to!"

"Well, I did," Dick said simply. "And look…I'm not any worse for wear. You have nothing to apologize to me for because nothing happened. I'm fine."

"But you may not have been," Bruce disagreed. "Something, anything could have happened to you. You said so yourself that the Joker could have easily pushed you over the edge of that doorway."

"He didn't," Dick reminded him gently. "I don't know whether to be glad that the Joker has Riddler-like tendencies or not."

"And that makes it even worse," Bruce said. "These are madmen. You were never supposed to come and rescue me from them. Imagine, Batman being rescued by his fourteen year old ward and…" Bruce broke off, seemingly out of words. He buried his head in his hands.

"Bruce," Dick said once more. He took several cautious steps towards the older man. He paused for just a moment before he wrapped his hands around Bruce's wrists and pulled them away from his face. "I do wish you'd stop apologizing to me for not being perfect."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but then no sound came out. He closed his mouth again, frowning deeply in thought. Dick felt a small sense of triumph. Did he, at long last, finally find the right thing to say?

"Because no one is perfect, you know," Dick reminded him. "Not even Batman."

Bruce stared at him for a long time, and Dick was relieved to see him smirk the tiniest bit. "Sometimes I think you enjoy this – throwing my own words back at me," Bruce muttered.

"Not at all," Dick said, returning the smile. "You've just taught me well. I told you, I take everything you tell me to heart. Every single thing."

"Fair enough." Bruce took a deep breath and when he let it out, he sounded a bit frustrated. "And I know no one's perfect," he whispered, and then he paused again for a long time. "I'll be the first to admit that, but you just weren't ever supposed to rescue me. You're my ward! I'm supposed to be the one protecting you. Not the other way around."

"Bruce?" Dick asked. He finally felt comfortable enough to step away from the door and sit down on the mattress beside his guardian. "I told you when I got to the factory that I watched my parents die without being able to do anything about it. You know that. And you know what that's like. If I could save you from a similar fate, that's nothing I could ever regret or be sorry for." Dick hesitated for a few moments before he asked, "If something similar had happened to Alfred thirty years ago, wouldn't you have done everything in your power to save him?"

Without missing a beat, Bruce answered, "Yes. Without question. He was all I had for a long time." Bruce had been staring down at the floor, but then he raised his eyes to meet Dick's. "He was all I had until I met you. Of course I would have. I would have done anything in my power to save him. And he probably would have felt just as guilty as I do now."

At least Dick felt like they were making some headway, but something was holding him back from being completely honest about everything he was feeling.

Dick sighed heavily before he said, "Bruce, I want us to try and talk this through openly and honestly. And like adults, which I'm going to try very hard to do. But there's something I need to know first."

"You know you can ask me, whatever it is."

"Can I?"

"Yes, of course," Bruce said firmly. "Haven't we been over this? I told you, with you knowing my secret identity, there's not much else we have to hide from each other, is there?"

Dick shrugged before he said, "I still worry about something."

Bruce watched him closely, but didn't say anything, waiting patiently for him to go on.

"Even though you've already reassured me," Dick said, "I'm scared to death sometimes that if I say or do the wrong thing, that you might make me leave." Dick stared straight ahead at the door, unable to meet Bruce's eyes.

" _Dick_ ," Bruce gasped out. He reached out for his ward, placing his hands on Dick's cheeks. He gently turned Dick's head to look at him, still keeping his hands in place. "You listen to me. When I took you on as my ward, it was a job I took very seriously. But that's probably a poor choice of words, because it was never a job. I'm grateful for every day we have together, even when we're at odds with each other. You're my _son_. _I love you_ and _nothing_ you ever say or do will change that. No amount of fighting will ever make me want to get rid of the best thing that's ever happened to me. Do you hear me? You will _always_ be welcome and you will _always_ have a home here. And that's one promise to you I'll _never_ break. Okay? Please just trust me."

All at once, Dick's eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip began to quiver. "I do." A sob escaped him before he said, "I love you too, Bruce."

Dick leaned forward without warning, burying his head against the collar of Bruce's robe. He reached his arms up, wrapping them around his guardian's neck. Without so much as a pause, Bruce's arms curled around his back, hugging Dick back tightly.

And just like that, Dick's crooked world seemed to right itself again, and he knew that he and Bruce would be okay. They still had a lot to work out, of course, but he knew that they would get there eventually.

"I'm sorry for what I said downstairs," Dick apologized, wishing he could take back every mean thing he had ever said to Bruce in the heat of the moment.

"You were angry," Bruce said understandingly. "I'd be lying if I told you I never said similar things to Alfred once upon a time." Bruce paused for a while, just holding Dick and reveling in the fact that they were talking civilly again. Finally, Bruce added, "And if I'm not mistaken, you were feeling a little underappreciated."

Dick pulled away from Bruce slightly, looking up into his guardian's eyes. The very corner of Dick's mouth started to curl into a smile. "You can always tell what I'm thinking, can't you?"

"Oh, no," Bruce said, shaking his head slightly. "Not always. Far from always. I just know that you had to be feeling very hurt to say what you did. That caused me to think about my own words, and I realized that I never thanked you for saving my life. I didn't mean to act like I wasn't grateful for what you did, because I was. I am. I just let my stupid pride and independence get in the way of that."

All at once, Dick let out another sob as tears quickly welled up in his eyes again. He buried his head in the crook of Bruce's neck again, wrapping his arms around his guardian's neck even more tightly than he had before. "That was all I wanted to hear," Dick said into Bruce's robe, each word punctuated by a sniffle.

Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulders tightly and sighed. "I'm sorry," Bruce said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that before."

When Dick continued to cry against him, Bruce pulled away slightly. Bruce reached up to wipe away the tear stains from Dick's cheeks with his thumbs like he had done so many times before.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Bruce said again, trying his best to put meaning into every single word. "Okay? _Thank you_. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for risking your own life to do it, and not even stopping for a moment to think about yourself in all of it. I've always told you that this world would be a much better place if everyone helped their fellow man instead of always looking out for number one. That's exactly what you did, and I can hardly fault you for taking my words to heart. If you know that much, if you're willing to do that much, then you're well on your way to being a wonderful man. Don't ever let yourself think otherwise just because I'm too stupid to admit it."

Dick sniffled, wiping away the remaining tears from his face. "You're not stupid, Bruce. You're just concerned about me. I know that. And I'm sorry I disobeyed you." Dick had intended to say more, but Bruce stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Don't," Bruce whispered. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you had to apologize for that. I know I've told you more than once that there can sometimes be exceptions to every rule. I can scarcely be angry at you for considering my life to be a strong enough reason to go against my wishes."

"I meant what I said," Dick told him. "I do try to live by everything you teach me. And…ever since I learned that you're Batman, I've realized how very much you really do practice what you preach. That's something that not a lot of people do. It's easy for someone to say those things, but they don't always actually live by them. You do."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He was a bit too stunned by Dick's words to say anything. He placed his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes, seemingly in deep thought about something.

Dick watched him, fascinated. He thought he could almost see the wheels turning in Bruce's head when he got into one of his contemplative moods.

When he finally gathered his thoughts, Bruce said, "Now that we're both suitably calmed down and on speaking terms again, I want you to answer a question for me."

Dick blinked. He hadn't been expecting this. In fact, he had almost been expecting Bruce to tell him that this conversation was over, but Dick almost felt silly for thinking that. Of course Bruce was going to hear him out. Bruce was fair that he always gave Dick the benefit of the doubt. A part of Dick, however, still wondered where this was going.

"Okay," Dick said, confusion ebbing at his voice.

"As I said when we were at the factory," Bruce said, "I could see, I could hear the excitement coming off of you. I want you tell me why that was."

"I…" Dick began, but then he stopped short. Dick blinked up at his guardian. He was confused and not at all certain what Bruce wanted from him.

"It's not a trick question," Bruce said around a smile. "Was it – I don't know – because you thought you were doing something cool?"

"No," Dick said. "Not because I thought it was cool. Not at all. You know I'm not like that. I don't do things because of silly reasons like that. I never have. That's a really dumb reason to do something. Anything."

"It is," Bruce agree. "And I'm glad to hear you say that." He watched Dick expectantly, still waiting for the answer to his question.

Dick shook his head. "I don't know," he said around a sigh. He frowned deeply in thought before he began again. "I guess when I came to get you today…I sort of felt this incredible sense of…I don't even know how to explain it. It just felt like I was doing something immensely _right_. I was trying to _save_ …the center of my universe. Up until they were murdered, my parents were the center of my universe. If I could have, I would have given my own life to save theirs. No questions asked. I know they wouldn't have wanted it that way, but I still would have done it in a moment. But if I couldn't have done that…then at least I got to do that for you. I got to save the life of the most important person to me. How many people can honestly say something like that?

"And you get to do that _all the time_ ," Dick stressed. "Not save the lives of the most important people to you necessarily, although you have done just that," Dick said around a smile. "But you get to save the lives of others who hold that same role for various citizens of Gotham. You've saved other people's parents, and brothers, and sisters, and children. Perhaps other children's guardians when they have no one else left to come home to them. Bruce, you're making sure that other children like us _don't_ have to be orphans. _Don't_ have to become parentless. _Don't_ have to bury their parents at such a young age." Dick let out a small gasp of air. "When I thought that I might get to be a part of that, even for a moment…I guess that's what was so exciting to me about it."

Dick paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. When he lifted his eyes to his guardian again, Dick said, "I mean, this is _important_. Saving people's lives is _important._ Stopping the criminals that try and run this city into the ground is _important_. I can't think of anything else more worthwhile to do. Nothing else even compares."

"There it is," Bruce said. He was smiling warmly at Dick. "That same spark in your eye when you talk about it that Alfred said I always had. That same spark in your eye that you get when you talk about birdwatching or stargazing."

Dick let out of a small breath of air, not even conscious that he was doing any such thing – getting a certain look in his eye. Dick supposed that that was something that simply automatically happened when one spoke about things they were passionate or excited about. It was something that _couldn't_ be planned or forced. That was the point. That was why Bruce took note of it.

"You're so much like me sometimes," Bruce admitted. "I knew as soon as you found out my secret identity that this might be a conversation we'd have to have someday. Perhaps that's another reason why I didn't want to tell you about Batman – because I had this feeling deep down that it would only lead you to wanting to follow in my footsteps." Bruce stared long and hard at Dick. "And here we are. I just didn't realize that this moment would come so soon."

"I know you made me promise I wouldn't," Dick said, "and I want to keep my promise. I do. But…I didn't realize until I actually did it that it would hit me that strongly. I can't help how I feel."

Bruce nodded in acknowledgement. "I know you can't. I don't expect you to try and change your feelings. You shouldn't have to. Not when they're for such a pure and loving reason as yours. But feeling and doing are two entirely different things."

Dick felt caught between a rock and a hard place. He was grateful that Bruce was at least hearing him out, and that his guardian wasn't angry at him for the mere fact that he was expressing his desires on the matter. At the same time, however, Dick didn't feel like Bruce was going to entertain any of his wants either.

"You're never going to let me do this, are you?" Dick asked disappointedly. He tried very hard not to sound like a spoiled brat, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"Your promise, Dick," Bruce said simply.

"I know," Dick replied. He hung his head, staring long and hard at the area rug beneath his feet – the very rug that Alfred had placed in the room to cover up a certain bit of damage to an area of the floor. Then his eyes travelled back across the carpet to Bruce's slippered feet. Dick was once again reminded that Bruce's shoes were ones that he could never even attempt to fill.

Looking back up at Bruce helplessly, Dick said, "I never, ever wanted to break my promise to you in the first place. You know why I did and if a similar situation arose again, I would still make the same decision. I won't lie to you about that, but I suppose that doesn't give me the right to go back on something I've already promised to you." It was very hard for Dick to finish, but he forced himself to anyway. He frowned deeply and clenched his hands into fists, steeling himself against what every fiber of his being was telling him. "Unless you do find yourself in such a predicament again, I won't break my promise to you. You are the most important person in the world to me, and the last thing I want to do is anything to ruin the relationship that we have. I want you to trust me, and if that means keeping that promise forever – outside of extenuating circumstances – then so be it."

"That's not what I said," Bruce said quickly.

Dick blinked questioningly. "You mean you won't hold me to it forever?"

"You're not going to be a minor forever," Bruce reminded him. "You will be an adult someday, at which point, I will have absolutely no say in what you choose to do with your life."

"But…" Dick began, but then he stopped himself. He bit at his bottom lip, a little bit confused about how he wanted to voice his thoughts. In the end, he said, "But you're my father in every way that counts. I wouldn't want to go against your wishes and do something to damage our relationship any more than any child would want to do that to their father. Even if I was an adult and I was more the capable to deciding what I want to do with my life, your opinion is still always going to hold a lot of weight in that decision."

"Something's occurred to me though," Bruce finally admitted after a very long time. "I feel like being Batman was my destiny. After what happened to me…how could I have chosen anything else? We're so much alike in every other way…I can very easily see why you might be drawn to a similar fate. If you feel any fraction of what I feel at all, then you're most likely going to do it with or without my blessing. Because you were right – Alfred didn't exactly approve of such a thing at first."

"I already told you I wouldn't," Dick argued. A part of him was thrilled with the direction their conversation was going but at the same time, he didn't want Bruce to get the wrong idea. "I _won't_ go against your wishes. Not if you don't want me to."

Bruce shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe and heaved a sigh. "And I appreciate that, but that won't make you very happy, will it? If this is truly what you want to do – what you're meant to do – you will grow to resent me at some point if I don't let you."

Dick considered this. "I don't know. I can't imagine ever feeling those things for you."

Bruce smiled a bit. "But you would be unhappy, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"I don't know," Dick answered again. That frown was back as he said, "I guess I would be in some way, yes. I think I would eventually be disappointed that you wouldn't support me in my dream. Maybe that would lead to resentment and even to anger. I might even be angry that it's what you chose to do with your life, but it's something you wouldn't let me do. I'm not sure."

Bruce got up off the bed and walked towards the door. He stopped, staring intently at it like it might hold all the answers he was seeking. "This is something I never thought I would say," Bruce said, his gaze travelling up towards the ceiling in awe. "I must need my head examined."

Dick had the urge to snicker, but he contained it. His heart began pounding anew, because he thought he knew what Bruce was about to say. Dick's mind started running wild with possibilities, and he didn't want to do anything to possibly ruin this. He certainly didn't want to seem immature – laughing at Bruce's uncertainty – because that might definitely change Bruce's mind.

"See," Bruce said, "part of being a good parent is knowing when to let a child spread his wings. Part of being a good parent is doing so when the time comes. Part of being a good parent is recognizing your child's own wishes and heeding them."

Dick was briefly reminded of his own conversation with Alfred in the Batcave, but something didn't quite sit well with Dick in all of this. "But…" Dick began, but then he thought better of his words. He must be crazy, Dick thought. The last thing Dick wanted to do was jeopardize this, but at the same time, Dick thought he still needed to say some things. Needed to explain things better.

"No," Dick finally said, and his voice was firm. "We've already decided that we're not going to hide things from each other anymore, so I'm going to tell you what I'm thinking. I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore. The last thing I want is for you to feel like I'm trying to _coerce_ you into letting me do this. That wasn't my intention. I don't want you to let me do this because you're afraid that I'll be angry with you if you don't. I wouldn't do that to you."

Bruce turned slightly, staring at Dick out of the corner of his eyes. A small smile crossed Bruce's lips before he said, "And if anything could have convinced me of my decision, that was it."

Dick shook his head, not entirely sure what Bruce meant.

"Dick, don't you see?" Bruce asked, picking up on Dick's expression at once. He turned to fully face his young ward. "I wanted to have this conversation with you in order to see if this is something you're really serious about, or if it's something you're ready to do at all. A child's response _would_ be to perhaps use anger to coerce a certain reaction from a parent. To make the parent feel guilty for not letting the child get his way. Do you have any idea how grown up you sounded just now? How mature?"

"No," Dick answered honestly. "I guess not. I just don't want you to resent _me_ in any way. If you felt like I guilt-tripped you into this, then you wouldn't exactly think very highly of me anymore, would you?"

Bruce tilted his head back and forth in thought. "Perhaps not," Bruce replied, "but the point in all of this was to see if you might be ready for a responsibility like this. And…I think you might be."

Dick swallowed hard. He had known it was coming, but actually hearing Bruce say the words was almost overwhelming. He couldn't believe that Bruce thought he was so responsible and was telling him so. Perhaps that was even more important than the fact that Bruce was telling him yes. They were actually having this conversation and they weren't fighting about it. When did that happen? When did Dick go from ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne to Batman's potential partner? Every time Dick thought about the crazy turns his life had taken, it felt like his head was spinning.

Dick felt like he should say something, but he wasn't sure what. Should he be happy? Excited? Should he thank Bruce? Should he jump for joy? As it was, however, Dick wasn't even sure he could do any of those things, because he felt completely immobile at the moment. Combined with his already spinning head, his heart was pounding ridiculously hard and his breathing was coming in hard gasps, making him feel lightheaded. If he tried to get up or even voice his thoughts, he thought he might pass out from the exertion.

But Bruce was watching him, waiting from some kind of response, so Dick tried his best. He took a deep breath, trying his best to calm himself. He rubbed a hand over his face, and he was surprised to feel that his skin was sticky with beaded up sweat.

Dick's throat and mouth suddenly felt parched, so swirled his tongue around in his mouth and swallowed several times. When he felt like he had gotten some moisture back in his mouth, he quietly asked, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Bruce hesitated for a long time before he nodded. "I am. If this is what you want to do – if this is _really_ what you want to do – then you have my blessing. But it's hardly going to happen overnight."

Bruce slowly made his way back to the bed, taking a seat beside Dick once more. He took both of Dick's hands in his before he said, "First and foremost, you need to continue to work hard in school. This doesn't give you a right to prioritize anything over your schoolwork. You're a straight A student and I don't want to see that suffer."

Dick nodded. Bruce always talked about how important school was, so Dick hadn't been expecting anything less.

"This also doesn't mean that you get to join me when I _leave_ the Batcave," Bruce told him. "Not just yet. You will continue to help me in the Batcave as you have been, and I will keep training you. You need to work hard at it and show me that this is something you truly want." Bruce paused, running his teeth over his bottom lip as he considered his next works carefully. "At some point in the future, if and when I consider you ready, you may join me in the actual crime fighting portion of it. I can't promise you when that will be, but continue to work hard at it and keep your grades up. Show me that you're serious, and that time will come. Does that sound fair?"

Dick didn't know what he had been expecting. Of course Bruce wouldn't let him go chasing after criminals tomorrow, but this made sense. Bruce was always fair.

"Yes," Dick agreed, nodding. "It does."

"Okay," Bruce replied. "Then it's something we can try. But aside from what I've just laid out, there will still be a _lot_ of conditions."

"I knew that was coming," Dick admitted. "Things like this are never that easy."

"Part of what made up my mind," Bruce said, "is that at least this way, I'll have a little bit of control over what you're doing. You will learn from me," Bruce said, tapping the index finger of left hand on the mattress to emphasize his point. "No one else. There are some unsavory characters out there, especially in this city, and the last thing I want is for you to wind up mixed up with any of them."

"Neither would I," Dick breathed. "Bruce, I would _never_ want to get mixed up with anyone like that. I hope you know that by now."

"I know you wouldn't," Bruce said. "But I think a part of me was afraid that that's what it might come down to. What if this did get that far? What if you became so consumed with anger and resentment that you did go to someone else to try and make your dreams come true? It would be a last resort for you, I realize that, but anger and desperation can make people do foolish things sometimes. Things that they wouldn't normally do." He gave Dick a meaningful stare.

"Yeah," Dick conceded. "We wouldn't be without parents if that wasn't true."

"And I never want it to get that far," Bruce said. He inched closer to Dick on the mattress. "I never want you to feel like you're completely out of options and choices that you have to resort to something like that. I never want our relationship to deteriorate so much that you would _choose_ to do something like that."

"I don't want that either," Dick agreed. "That's the last thing I want."

"We're agreed then," Bruce replied. "I will continue to teach you given that I am the only one that _is_ teaching you. If there's something you want to learn that I'm not teaching you, if you feel concerned or unhappy with any of it, you need to come to me and tell me. Whatever it is, we can work it out."

Dick nodded. "I can do that. And it's nice to know that you will be open to hearing those things from me. You're my guardian, and it's hard for me to feel like I'm criticizing you."

"That won't be what this is about," Bruce replied firmly. "Just like we did with this, we'll sit down and discuss any issues you may have. I don't want there to be any secrets between us. Not anymore. If there's something you need to tell me, then I want you to feel safe enough to do so. I never want you to be afraid to tell me something. Ever. Because we can't work those problems out if you don't bring them to my attention."

Dick nodded again. "Okay. I will."

"And this isn't going to be like things around here," Bruce told him. "Crime fighting is serious business. You can't be relaxed or goof off. There will be no joking around or having fun."

"No," Dick said, "I know. I've been around the Joker and the Riddler, don't forget. I know how serious it can be. I know it wouldn't do to lose your concentration when you're around the likes of them. I also know what's at stake if it turns out badly. I've seen the consequences of that and I've been in that situation before."

Bruce let out a soft breath and shook his head. "I guess I still like to think that you haven't been affected by all of this so much," he said quietly.

"It's not in a bad way," Dick reminded him. "I'm just more aware of what can happen and what can go wrong if you're not on top of your game. I think that's a good thing."

"It is," Bruce agreed, nodding. "It can be a very good thing. But just like when we're at home, I am and will always be your guardian. If I tell you to do something, you must do it. If I tell you to run and save yourself, I expect nothing less than your absolute cooperation. Do you understand me?"

"I…" Dick began, but his voice died in his throat. He hadn't quite been prepared for that. He knew that something like this was coming – that Bruce would demand his compliance at all times – but leaving Bruce behind was something that Dick didn't know if he could ever agree to. It was exactly why Dick had to make up the Robin persona in the first place – because he could never let Bruce die, even if it meant going against his guardian's wishes.

"That one will be hard for me," Dick admitted, and that was hard for him too. His dream was coming true – Bruce was agreeing to him potentially becoming a crime fighter just like him – but Dick couldn't lie to Bruce about what he was feeling. He wouldn't.

"I know that," Bruce acknowledged. "That's why I brought it up. Above all, I am your guardian and the last thing I would want is for something to happen to you in all of this."

"Can't we just take that on a case-by-case basis?" Dick asked sheepishly.

Bruce simply stared at him sternly. "Your word, Dick. Because this isn't going to happen unless I have your solemn word."

Dick's breath caught in his throat, and he frowned down at the bedspread underneath him for a very long time. He was deliriously happy that Bruce was even considering letting him do this at all – something he hadn't expected in the least. This was something Dick desperately wanted, so shouldn't he just agree to whatever Bruce asked? But Dick couldn't do that. He couldn't look his guardian in the face – the man that he was coming to see as a father – and deceive him in such a way if he didn't mean it. It wasn't right. If Dick was going to promise such a thing to Bruce, he knew he had to mean it.

When it came right down to it, however, he knew Bruce was only looking out for his best interests. He didn't want to see Dick hurt. If that meant trying to fend off the bad guys while Dick got out safely, then Dick knew Bruce would do that. He would do that a million times over, because Dick was that important to him.

But no. That wasn't entirely true, was it? Bruce would do that for anyone who was in trouble, not just Dick. That was who Batman _was_. That was how giving and selfless Bruce was.

"You know," Dick said thoughtfully, putting off his pending promise for the time being, "Batman always seemed like some fantastical and almost imaginary figure. He never seemed real to me. He was more like a myth than a real human being. But when I found out it was _you_ – not some alien or super-powered being – but _you_ …it's made Batman real to me. He's been underneath me this entire time, in my very house, and I never even realized it." Dick paused, looking up into Bruce's eyes. "You don't need to have any special abilities to be a superhero. And neither do I, I suppose. I only have to be determined, and brave, and hard-working…and I can make something amazing happen."

"If you're determined enough," Bruce corrected quietly, "you can make anything happen."

"Yes," Dick agreed with a smile. "You taught me that. You taught me that I could even something as amazing as _Batman_ if I wanted to be. And…" Dick broke off, staring down at the floor. "No, I don't want to be Batman necessarily." He made a face at thought. "That's not what I mean. I could never be _you_. It would take some pretty big feet to even begin to fill your boots, and I doubt I would ever want to try. But…I can't help but feel that…maybe this was all meant to be."

Dick considered this and Bruce watched him carefully. Bruce wouldn't do anything to neither encourage or discourage Dick's response; this had to come from Dick himself.

"I'm realizing more and more that this is something I want to try," Dick said, meeting Bruce's eyes and nodding his head firmly. "I wouldn't be happy if I didn't take this incredible opportunity you're offering to me." Dick paused, closing his eyes for a few moments. He took a deep breath before he said, "If that's the condition, then okay." Dick straightened his posture and squared his shoulders. "You have my word, Bruce. My solemn word."

* * *

 _Meanwhile, across town, the Joker and his henchmen return to their primary hideout in an old derelict soap factory…_

"Honestly, Joker, I don't understand why you left this new sidekick of Batman's there to save him," Jack, one of the Joker's henchmen muttered. "What a perfectly good deathtrap gone to waste."

"Ah," the Joker replied as they climbed down the stairs into the basement of the building, "but let's not forget the second part of our plan." When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to face his goons. "Imagine Batman's reaction when he learns what it is and that he's been on a wild goose chase this entire time."

"Then what did you even lure him to the card factory for in the first place?" King asked, joining the Joker at the bottom of the staircase.

"Yeah," Ace, the third thug agreed. "What was the point of that waste of time?"

"Think of it this way," the Joker explained. "Batman will recover from this little brush with death, I'm sure, but it will certainly be a while before he's back on top of his game. It will slow him down for a while, giving me plenty of time to plant my last clue for him to solve. I'll admit, I didn't see this little sidekick of his showing up when he did-"

"Batman has a new sidekick?" a woman asked, appearing from a doorway towards the rear of the basement. Her bright red hair was pinned up in a bun with a small silvery hair comb that looked almost like a tiara.

"Yeah," the Joker mumbled, going to a series of shelves that lined one wall of the room. Fumbling through some papers and bottles, he added, "That's what he called himself – some tiny little boy that's about the least imposing thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Gee, Joker," the woman commented. "Batman doesn't seem like the type to let a child of all things trail along after him."

After finding what he wanted on the shelves, the Joker turned around to face the woman. "That's why I have my doubts as to whether he's Batman's actual sidekick or not. He didn't seem too sure of himself."

"Then why didn't you capture him?" she asked. "That could have been fun. We could have used him for a bargaining chip."

"Because there's nothing I want to bargain for right now!" the Joker snapped. "I have everything I need right here to carry out the rest of my plan." He held out his hands, revealing a joker playing card in his right hand and small glass bottle in his left hand. The bottle had a clear liquid swirling around inside it.

"But on the other hand," the Joker admitted after a minute, "I may have to keep that in mind for later. That'll work out much better anyway once I have a clearer idea on the status of his relationship with Batman. But as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he bit out, "I don't think this little boy will be much of a threat. As it is, however, I'm sure he'll confer with Batman all about that went on when we left him hanging – about my _three_ accomplices and all that." The Joker cackled maniacally. "They won't see my Queen coming."

The woman giggled, clapping her hands together in excitement. "Does this mean it's time for me to put on my show?" she asked.

"Soon, my Queen," the Joker said quietly, approaching her. He held up the joker playing card in between his right index and middle fingers. "I just have to plant one last card to clue the Dimwitted Duo into what I'm planning, and then it will be time for your show, my dear."

The Joker held up his other hand, holding out the small glass bottle towards Queen. She reached out for it, taking the bottle in both of her hands like it just might be the most important thing she'd ever held in her life.

"I still don't get it, Joker," King said. He had stopped on the last riser of the staircase, leaning over the railing into the room. "Why don't you just go on and let her do it already?" He gestured across the room to Queen.

"Because," the Joker said slowly, turning his head to look at King, "half the fun is seeing if Batman can keep up with me. I told you that already. Can you imagine Batman racing to Commissioner Gordon's office, not sure if he'll get there in time or not?" He clenched his empty hand in excitement, his shoulders drawing up closer to his neck. "Oh, how I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes what I had planned all along. It should be delicious good fun!"

The Joker suddenly threw his arms up and jumped up in joy, his loud cackle echoing off the walls of the small basement room.

 _What in the world could the Joker be up to, Batfans?  
What could he be planning in Commissioner Gordon's office?  
Will Batman and Robin figure out the Joker's clues in time to stop him?_

 _For the answers to these and more dastardly questions,  
Tune in next time…  
Same fan-site…  
Same fan-channel._

 _One word of warning:  
The Joker already as an ace in the hole!_


End file.
